John Thorkild Ellison (17/04/51 / Edinburgh)
A 'Bad' Mother Grieves
I realise my only hope
Is to find some kind of way to cope
With the guilt that hounds me from within,
But I'm paralysed by a sense of sin.
When I was younger things were good,
I loved my children like I should,
I read them stories when they went to bed,
They loved me too (that's what they said) .
The years have passed and I'm getting old;
It's funny how your heart grows cold
'Cos now I don't care one little bit
About the family and that sh*t
Who married me and destroyed my life
By persuading me to be his wife.
He made me feel like I didn't exist
Although he squeezed me when we kissed,
He shattered every innocent dream
And when I wake at night I scream.
There's no-one now who can explain
Why the nightmares come again and again,
They'll never understand my pain
And my awful fear of going insane.
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