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Mom's Cold, Dead, Stare

How come she doesn't love me? How come she will not care? Why does she only look at me with that COLD, DEAD, STARE? I know she says she's sorry for all the pain I've had. Then, why won't she break this cycle and show me life's not so bad? She thinks it's just too late now. I know I'm already grown. But I could use her friendship while I raise kids of my own. A mom to tell my thoughts to. A mom to share my fears. Just someone to care for me as I grow thoughout the years. It's over now, I've begged her to love me and to care. But all I ever get from her is that COLD, DEAD, STARE.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2005




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Date: 6/26/2010 11:12:00 PM
Mary, I really love this poem. Even though I'm not all grown up and don't have kids of my own, I know what you're talking about. My friends all have great relationships with their mom's, they tell them everything, and I just wish I could have that same relationship with my mom too. You are an amazing writer, and you have quite a way with words. Love Sierra <3
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Book: Shattered Sighs