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Jess Rogers Nov 2018
She is calling for me,
She is calling for me,
The mother I wish I could be,
Her anger at the bar of her crib,
I should get up,
I need to get up,
She is calling me,
What day is it?
What day of the week?
I can’t remember,
I am so tired,
The cry’s,
She always cries,
Am I not good enough?
They say I have the baby blues,
Losing my mind is a funny thing,
I was so smart and ready,
I will get up,
I must get up,
Telling myself “I will try to be a better mom tomorrow”...
Jess Rogers Nov 2018
Sometimes I feel so sick to my stomach,
The little girl you thought didn’t understand what you were doing,
Wilting red roses on your wall that you hung for years,
Shimmering dark blue dresses in your closet,
Ones you danced in,
A stranger bought,
You said mommy sleeps separately,
He just a friend,
The liar who hides,
There’s a fraud in your phone,
When he left you,
You scummed to your hidden cave of things you couldn’t let go of,
Piles of trash, clothes and dishes
Unwashed hair,
A little girl plays alone in her room,
The sound of weeping from your abyss,  
But that didn’t stop you,
I’m nearly 2 decades older,
Yet I still have to keep mommies secrets...

— The End —