Mom

Lily sits alone, fighting shadows

under the shade of the pine tree.

 

She wore a tweed skirt today, looking sexy,

but her mom called her a slut and

pushed her down the staircase.

 

What a dangerous game she’s playing;

if she’s not careful, her own daughter

 

will end up dead, with a note that reads,

I wasn’t worth it

 

Mother’s Day came and went

No one called her

Not one of her daughters

 

What can she expect?

She hates.

 

So, call her wicked, call her selfish,

call her the problem,

And keep it going.

 

Lily sits alone

All these years later,

 

her husband beckons from the

doorway, but he’s not there

 

She doesn’t see him.

She’s still fighting shadows

under the shade of the pine tree.

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