Monday, September 12, 2011

A Mother's Lament

When I found her, she was as a doll
the porcelain kind
Kohl black yet slight infractions,
her spider web eyes
Intricacy with a vagueness
something was missing

Her lips a palish blue, silent
appearing to kiss the moon
Her skin was chalked white
all color drained
She appeared to have found frailty's other half
her body motionless, hands seemingly isolated

She is a victim of broken promises,
she lives now in dreams, my dreams
She is my silver bullet,
she is that which haunts, torments me
She is the brine
she the salt of my tears

If only I had listened,
of my heart, my love she was never unworthy
She forever my little star,
no shadow of doubt
You see she is my daughter
bringing home more than a soft knowledge of self abuse



Self Abuse comes in many forms and for many reasons. WATCH FOR SIGNS, BE AWARE!

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