1 min read
18 Apr

my child was taken

from me

when i moved cities.

the family enveloped her,

she never returned to me.

they took her love,

claimed her victories,

created their histories

of her and me.

my little miracle,

held so close to my breast,

now belonged to them.

she tolerated their mistakes,

not mine.

she ran to them with open arms,

not to me.

she believed their stories,

not mine.

and so it is,

the poison of love.

i threw her to them,

out of love,

now reaping 

what i sowed.