The Shell of Her
Who are you?
The woman I should call mom,
Its a burden to my life
That your mind is never home.
Years of inconsistency
Have left me wondering why,
Did you even want this title
Or was it error that brought me life?
The small memories I do have
Keep my mind at minimal peace,
To know there is a fraction of you
That once was a dream.
I miss the ideas of having you near
Besides the empty shell,
To live your life in distance
Is something you do well.
Copyright © Heather Ross | Year Posted 2015
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