Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
May 2020
I saw her .
But she never told me .
I loved her .
She said the same thing .
My mother .
She was .
Made slave by someone ,
I loved to call dad .
One night with a knife ,
I saw her .
Perhaps that was the last of her .
That knife was used to **** her .
She didn't **** herself .
She didn't run for help .
Because she stood there for me .
Written by
Adaa Sayed  14/F/India
(14/F/India)   
355
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems