My mother

Linda is her name,
I had her picture in a frame,
I blame her everyday,
Because she didn't stay.
She left us,
When we was younger,
I was only thirteen,
She was still mean.
I just turned fifteen,
She still says,
The same ole thing,
She made us oh! So mad.
She said,
She would always love us,
See I say,
She said she couldn't stay.

inside I cry
for what once was
no rhyme no reason
no why because