A murder.
Crows feasting on a dead rabbits carcass reminds me of
how much my mom enjoys picking on me.
Does she see me as a carcass to feast on?
and not a daughter who just needs a hug.
Why does she percieve me as helpless when
I'm just missing the love from a mom.
-C
YOU ARE READING
A lost kid
Poesíapoems through the eyes of a child who never knew love from a parent.
