Young MotherA Poem by MelodyNew write. Please read.I see her baby kicking,
and she makes me want to cry. Her teeth so yellow, but her smile so bright, and her stomach so swollen. Her stomach adorns my hand-- There is a slight quake beneath the surface-- reminding me of a bumpy road on a bright yellow school bus. I question the young mother's decision-- if it was a decision at all-- or if it was a consequence or result or bad memory. "Maybe I'll learn to be a victim of this complex 'system' of thoughts, babies guarding instead of being the guarded," she says. Was there a choice at all? I wonder if this homeless baby will be fatherless-- in a mother-full life. What will this baby think of its mother? Its forever youthful, street living mother... © 2014 MelodyAuthor's Note
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Added on November 16, 2014 Last Updated on November 16, 2014 AuthorMelodyTXAboutMy name is Melanie. Not the best name. Not the worst. I am a person. Not the best. Not the worst. I am Melanie. more..Writing
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