different post again, hereâs a poem i made recently; havenât been in good health, but hey
hands pull on my hair tightly
with colorful plastic knockers
the sunlight reflected off the mirror
my momâs soft breath and murmurs
that was too bitter for me
hands stretched out, innocent baby dove
full of tears and snot, âplease mommyâ
pick me up, kiss my cheek
tell me that youâll stay with me
only seeing you at the end of the week
you didnât die, but i would still grieve
pulling me, and letting me go
leaving me with him, all alone
mom, i miss you, please come home
im still yours, your daughter, set in stone
because i have what you have
between my legs, on my chest, in my bones
ashamed, covering it all in the bath
for men touch what they believe they own
you would know it all too well
because you were neglected too
and you said that one day, youâd tell
so when youâre ready, ill listen to you