Maybe one day you’ll understand,
Why your Mother isn’t there to make you proud,
Maybe one day you’ll stop being angry,
And maybe you’ll stop being mad.
I love you already,
And you’re only one week old,
But I can’t leave you forever,
Until my story’s been told.
It happened one day,
Nine months ago,
In the dark in the woods,
When I didn’t feel low.
He came up behind me,
And threw me to the floor,
That’s the start of the story,
And now you’re what I live for.
I feel bad for you now,
A baby with no name,
But what can a woman do,
I’m a Mother, I’m ashamed.
So, that was the awful story,
Most of which I’ve left unsaid,
Just remember me when you’re older,
When you’re lying in your bed.
You had a Mother once,
Who loved you so so much,
But had no option but to take,
Away her life,
And release it from your tiny finger clutch.
