good girl
It follows me
Despite my control
Seeing the world
Like a little girl
It peers above the bottom
There's so much more I tell 'em
My mother screamed
The skin was seared
And yet not a day goes by
Where she is alone
Hidden, maybe
A secret, perhaps
Not for me to tell
But for eyes to see
A good life ahead
Still everyday we slip
And she doesn't miss a beat
This poem is about:
Me
Guide that inspired this poem:
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: