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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Writing · #936881
She screamed at the child who silently replied.
The Silent Reply




“I hate you and wish you were never born.

You're a wicked young child. A real wild thorn.”

She screamed at the child who silently replied,

Mother, I'm sorry. I tried.

“I want you to go away! Just leave me alone.”

I’m really quite scared of your tone.

“Stop bugging me! Why do you have to be such a brat?”

I love you. I'm sorry. I'm such a rat.

The child grew, the woman got old.

The conversation, half silent, still rolled.


“Mother, come on, you must eat your soup.”

I can't, the stroke caused my lip to droop.

“Mother, you’ve spilled your milk, you’re such a mess.”

Stop with that rough rag. See my pain, wash me less.

“You crooked old crow."

You reap what you sow.

"Mother! This isn't any fun."

now I know, what's done is done

"Your getting so thin and so frail"

I know this body will soon fail.

“You’re a huge burden to me.”

I am sorry my darlin', soon you’ll be free.







© Copyright 2005 Montana Maiden (bakerjule at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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