A Mothers Epitaph Poem, by chris emerson, at My poetic side

As I listen to the dirges

drifting by in gentle strains.

I'm carried back to childhood

I am now a child again.

A hand is on my shoulder

I am by my mother's side,

But I know it's only make-believe

for my mother cast us by.

now your day of judgement

has finally come.

I will never get to ask you

just one question, Why.

You battered us, and you bruised us,

every day you mentally abused us.

But even worse than that, you let

our own father use us.

I wonder if you ever knew the word

Filicide.

Or counted the times

you knocked my head from side to side.

Now as I stand here one last time

by your side,

I shall shed no tears,

for the mother who never knew me,

like a pane of glass, you just

saw through me.

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