I Hate, I Hate,
My son is 8.
The middle one's two
For this I knew

For two would
Not be long for he
In two short months
He would be three.

The oldest got
The best of me.
The little ones
The rest of me.

I hate I tried to
Close the gate
But stole the key
And made it free.

My anger has cost
Me everyone I know
My anger has lost
Me down below.

Who is this person
I've become?
Where is this woman
I no have become?

I do not like
Who I've become.
I do not like it
Not even some.

My mom married him
And divorced me
My dad now dates her
All his time spent with she.

This is the path
I thought I chose
That twist and turned
There caused me woes.

If life is a journey
With a lesson to learn,
Then why haven't I learned?
Why do I get burned?

12/26/14
Copyright From A Poet's Heart