My Broken Mother

Growing up

it wasn’t easy seeing my mother abused.

painted with hot blood

gashed and bruised

he ripped life from her chest

only slightly amused

every aspect of her being

was hungrily consumed

he slowly destroyed her

and was never accused

the innocent light in her chest

slowly diffused


growing up

it wasn’t easy seeing his toxic breath sink into her skin

creeping it’s dark fingers to her roots within

a stench smelling like greed and intoxication

her spirit crushed by hands lathered in sin

my voice suppressed by the fear of his grin

we knew it was happening, but we couldn’t face him


growing up

it wasn’t easy seeing her ocean blue eyes fading

her pureness degrading

upon the landscape of her skin his boots were crusading

i stood there hating

and waiting

for him to stop invading

her love and translating

her soul into a gaping hole

water running through her heart he stole

until her tear ducts were no longer full


growing up it wasn’t easy seeing her heat with rage

but she locked it in her atmosphere cage

and in her suppressed anger she still gave and gave

his utter slave

a little respect was all she craved

but she still gave and GAVE

and GAVE and GAVE


she would open her arms

and he’d slap her face


growing up

it wasn’t easy seeing mother


abused by the human race.


Grant-Grey Porter Hawk Guda

Powerful expression! 

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