Like Glass

A mother’s heartache many can tell

A feel like glass

Tiny pieces you throw

Spiteful words tauntingly picked from your tree

All aimed at me

Me

The one who chose to give you life

Me

The one who cried until 3

Surfaced by the line of bees waiting for me

Dodging forward and moving ahead

I’d go through it all all over again

Me

The one who loves you

More than she loves herself

© Elizabeth Mendiola 2015

Photo credit: Deviantart.com

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