You sold me out and shamed my name.
This shattered Life became your game.
The wrath of God an endless flame.
Beware of how you claim your fame.
I myself shall hold no blame.
I know the truth and feel no shame.
A vengeful mother. A spiteful dame.
To me you're nothing. You're all the same.
You cut me swift. Your ax of lies.
Took siege my world. Your biased spies.
Don't look me dead within my eyes.
For you may combust to hordes of flies.
Your stench of pity and worn out cries.
Where wholesome truth just rots and dies.
The Word I'm taught. She now denies.
I lack the warmth a mom supplies.
The rage I feel is boiling hot!
It's spilling over my patience pot!
You hit me in the hardest spot.
But your sorry words shall reach me not.
All your hate, with truth I fought.
All my pain, you searched and sought.
But as Em would say, leave Salem's Lot.
For a ticket to heaven cannot be bought.
Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (Mother by Little King of Sorrows )
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