Mother of the year
What gives you the right.To complain.
She askes.
What gives you the right.
To judge.
She askes.
I only asked, for permission to go.
With some friends to a movie.
And yet she yells at me.
And calls me a whore.
She, the mother of the year.
Says that I am only trouble.
She locks me up.
In a room upstairs.
And yet she calls herself.
Mother of the year.
Copyright ©2007 Nyorioko.
Poetry by Nyorioko
Read 434 times
Written on 2007-08-27 at 20:16
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