They say she's dumb
I see in her eyes that she wants to run.
She has a son
She holds so highly
he keeps her warm.
He is her sun.
She needs him near, to keep her here.
As they look down on her she feels their eyes yet she looks away
For she wants no praise.
Yes, she wishes it was different;
but ,this is the plate she was given.
Yes, it looks bad to them so they keep their distance.
Yet
They don't see that
she goes the distance.,
Broken inside
she's lost so much that, she'd end her life ,,in an instant.
But her boys eyes..
That's her insentive .
They see her insensitive
Her eyes say the opposite, full of emotion, she has no choice but to bottle it.
,,, Happiness afar yet she continues to follow it.
The pain that they Wollow in , she swolows it.
Swolow it, she bottles it.

Dear mother,

We are your babies for a little while.
Then we grow and explore our independence.
We swear we will never sound like you.
Until...One day we do.
At first it shocks us.
And yes, we will try to push away.
Then we have children.
Again... we repeat what you say.
By that time we realize a thing or two.
Then we understand why you do what you do.
When we reach that conclusion.
Things will have changed.
We will feel sorrow...
We will feel guilt...
We will cherish the blanket,
That you took the time to quilt.
We will not see this coming.
But things will really change.
The ones who call us their babies.
Become our babies in a way.
Our babies are there.
And gone in a day.

Dear mother,

We are your babies for a little while.
Then we grow and explore our independence.
We swear we will never sound like you.
Until...One day we do.
At first it shocks us.
And yes, we will try to push away.
Then we have children.
Again... we repeat what you say.
By that time we realize a thing or two.
Then we understand why you do what you do.
When we reach that conclusion.
Things will have changed.
We will feel sorrow...
We will feel guilt...
We will cherish the blanket,
That you took the time to quilt.
We will not see this coming.
But things will really change.
The ones who call us their babies.
Become our babies in a way.
Our babies are there.
And gone in a day.