Poem: Mother

Mother:

You can wound or heal with a stare, a word, a blow.
The things you've done, you just don't know.
The impact left a mark that's only visible on my heart,
that you've mastered with your crafty art.
My thoughts are not my own,
my mind from youth was blown by betrayal,
and lies that tore away the family ties.
However, if you need me I'll be there,
because of obligation as demanded by whatever situation...
Don't expect me to be tender as a dove,
because for you, there is no love.