Concrete Flower


It was 9 o’clock

I was 9

My mom said

“come on girls, I guess it’s time”

She sat us down

and held her breath

and with a big sigh

She looked at us and said

“your dad won’t be staying here,

I know you’re both sad,

But do you remember your Uncle Harry?

You girls can call him dad.”


“what?” my sister said?

Then my childhood was a blur.


When I turned 19

The truth cleared about her


The cheating and the lies and the stealing of my youth

My real dad became my best friend

A real man

He gave me the truth..

Or the parts I could stand…


I hated her for a while

I never ever smiled


“How could someone do that?,” I thought

“She was your husband’s sister…

And she couldn’t even walk”


How is it fair, can someone please tell?

How she lied with dogs

And her fleas infested MY well

We all felt that darkness

While she felt delight

Which only made me more angry at the sight


But as I grew older I tried to understand

What could make a woman

Lie with the wrong man


Maybe she found comfort

In my aunt’s husband’s arms

Just like I found comfort

In the memories that I mourned


Maybe it was greed

Or money that did her in

Lust, maybe… I’ll never know

But I do know her most grievous sin


She poured the concrete

On 3 innocent souls

Maybe not maliciously,

But 3 flowers were grown


I’m now 22

And I still don’t understand

What could make a woman

Lie with the wrong man


A loving husband and two children at home

Is more than what some could hope for

But she threw away some’s hopes

And showed our feelings the door


The hate I held for her is gone

Although I struggle sometimes

To know when she’s true

Or to be scared that she’s lying


But now I have a life of my own

I’ve lived long enough to make mistakes

And if I were judged for mine

I’m sure some would feel hate


I didn’t see this at 19

Though sometimes I wish I had

I only have one mother

And the relationship was bad


Its gotten better


 And as an adult I think it’s easier to see

That situation had to be tough

even if I still can’t see…

She must have had her reasons

For only caring for herself


If only I could remember the good times

And not dwell on the bad.

…oh well.


This poem is about: 
My family


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