I still look at her an see light,
Even though she was the one to blow out the candle,
I use to be a little girl,
Turned into a mother before I could read,
Rooted in the ground and torn out,
I only expected a gentle uprooting,
On my own now,
I build the fence,
Then the wall,
I cover them with flowers to hide their shadows, now I evade to a windowless room,
To think,
All the doors I left open,
None were walked through.