It breaks my heart to hear your stories.
Only I, connect the dots.
With difficulty, you speak of "your daughter".
You had three sons,
So everyone laughs it off.
Just as they do, with everything you say.
I want to shake them.
To make them feel
The damage they carelessly inflict.
They don't see the hurt and confusion cross your face,
Nor do they feel your pain.
I know you are talking about my mother.
But they, are too ignorant to think you remember her.
She doted on you, like you were hers.
From 15 to 42,
She was the closest thing you had.
You abandoned her after their divorce.
But that memory,
Is too recent for you to remember.