family abuse neglect broken homes children
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I gently pull the stitch
My craving formed by an itch,
Of the need to express emotion
In the midst of this commotion
Tears soak my face
My mind, my mouth replaced,
By the black thread in place.
Love sometimes dies
Unlike our faith or weeds
When it broke unexpected
But one December brought me
Two people so different
but trying so hard
To stay together
although they grew more apart
The screams
The dark
Tears run down a trembling face
Hands clasped over mouth
She holds her breath at the noise
Noise
Threats
Screaming
Screaming
The dark
Even the first families had their secrets,
But not like the secrets today.
The American family is dying,
And so are the American ways.
Family is not always family;
Undesirable members go unclaimed.
