My mother beat up her son
Fifteen years younger than iam
Done,
He stood aside sobbing in distaste
Looking at the heartless woman
Whom I believed he hated
I had to turn away my eyes
I remember for minutes
But so soon were no cries
I looked back,
Lucky I was to see his final tears
Drop on my mother's laps
The beating
The pain
The hate
All he had forgotten
I thought my brother and I
Were the same
Same mother
Same hearts
Same clay
And tried to forget about her
Her who bruised my heart
And threw it in the dumpsite
To rot
I try to close my eyes
But still her voice I hear
I wish I were my mother's two year old son
Who forgets the bitter pain
And renew this weary heart
Aug 6, 2020
Aug 6, 2020 at 5:30 AM UTC
My mother beat up her son
Fifteen years younger than iam
Done,
He stood aside sobbing in distaste
Looking at the heartless woman
Whom I believed he hated
I had to turn away my eyes
I remember for minutes
But so soon were no cries
I looked back,
Lucky I was to see his final tears
Drop on my mother's laps
The beating
The pain
The hate
All he had forgotten
I thought my brother and I
Were the same
Same mother
Same hearts
Same clay
And tried to forget about her
Her who bruised my heart
And threw it in the dumpsite
To rot
I try to close my eyes
But still her voice I hear
I wish I were my mother's two year old son
Who forgets the bitter pain
And renew this weary heart
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