The Living Broken (Poetry)

All The Same

She screamed and shout,

Loud and ear-piercing.

She cried and sobbed, 

Cold and pained.

She begged and pleaded,

"Please, oh, please".

But that was never the case,

When I wore her shoes.

How she hit me,

And left me bruised.

A face of many colors,

She wore as a mask.

Never was she warm,

Only stone-cold.

Now she kneels down, 

Imploring and beseeching.

But no plead could save her now,

I am; the daughter of a dreadful woman anyway.

So what makes me, any different?