THE AGONY OF A MOTHER
What pain is it,
Of solitary or what?
Basking in dreams
In shredded streams.
In living and dead
Her thought is faded
Long busted bubble,
The kids pang palpable.
At the start of each day
Of sessions and seasons
She must more pray
Out, of boundless reasons.
Illegitimate; singe on hers
Apathy they know and feel
Such they build their will
Growing beyond their father’s…
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