"I musn't cry,"
I chant again.
"I want to die,"
I say right then.
My mom walks by
And listens in
As I so try
To make it end.
My tears run dry,
As does my blood,
But Mom stands by;
Avoids my flood.
She doesn't care,
I'll bet you that,
Though she was there,
And witnessed that.
To no dismay,
She saw my death,
My suicide,
And my last breath.
Her baby girl,
Her growing teen;
My blood that swirled..
What does it mean?
Did she love me?
And does she still?
After she watched
Me, myself kill?
She did nothing
To prevent this;
Left me wond'ring
And led amiss.
I always knew
I would go first.
Acknowledged since
My very birth.
And now I have
But all's divine.
Nothing has changed
For Mom in time.











--
Would you like a jelly baby?
--
When you write for yourself, your work will be loved. It's when you start writing to please others that it ceases to have true substance.
--
Would you like a jelly baby?