Momma (Part One)

Dry River Bed of the Allt nan Uamh
Momma, oh Momma I can see your trauma Bruises fresh and old Your touch deathly cold Your once rosy face Pallid with lost grace Your river of hair Thin from lack of care Greasy, neglected Tired, dejected Too late to correct Trust men I elect To help revive thee Once more, be lively Yet they lie freely The fee high really Your life sucked away Youth gone in a day You never held back Gave and were still taxed Oceans of fate flood Rivers of love, mud Dried, cracked, and sullen Raging storms swollen Tidings polluted progress saluted Your babes uprooted Blemishes protrude You give and you give How long can you live When those you give trust Pull ore and leave rust? When we are gone, dust, Will you thrive, or bust? How does this poem make you feel? Did you like it? Not like it? Let’s discuss in the comments below!

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