There’s a mom I cant coach and cant bandage. Who’s been wronged by emotional damage. All alone in the cold on a farm. I’d console since I know of this harm.
Its my own that has shown her this hurt. Seeds ones sewn cant be grown in sad dirt. If I’d known one was prone to desert, I’d expose you and told truths at first.
Fifteen years doesn’t buy you some grace? Skipping tears you just try to escape. Though its clear there’s no side I can take. Now I fear somethings died in my faith.
Poetry
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I think because there is- at least what I believe from this prose or poem- a backstory that the audience is not aware of or privy to, it makes this piece even more fascinating in its mystery. Despite its short length, this piece is deceptive because each line carries so much implicit history that makes the audience want to delve further into the words presented to find clues of those hidden ones.