I miss my mother
she used to be nice
she would cook up a batter
with herbs and spice
Quickly, she'd lather
to catch up to work
tired and groggy
she'd come home, berserk
I miss being a child
How small the world used to be;
fragile and mild
My mother was happy to have me
YOU ARE READING
Bottled Emotion Factory - A Poetry Book (WIP)
Poetry((Work In Process this is super messy )) All forms of writing that are contained in this book are written by Yours Truly unless stated otherwise. The author does not intend to offend or mock anyone if they feel repulsed by the content the author wri...
