Oh Mother…
you gave me birth
but I often wondered why
I never pleased you
I often made you cry
I was too sullen
too fat, too shy
Too quiet, too noisy
too low, too high
Neither the baby
nor first-born
I tread in the middle
Feeling forlorn
Professing maternal love
with tears and supplication
and criticized my actions
with promised damnation
Oh Mother…
I sought your praise
in everyone I met
left feeling needy
from that foolish sucker’s bet
copyright 2010
Anita Rodgers Mystery Writer 