Mom's Cold, Dead, Stare Poem by Mary Nagy

How come she doesn't love me?
How come she will not care?
Why does she only look at me
with that COLD, DEAD, STARE?
I know she says she's sorry
for all the pain I've had.
Then, why won't she break this cycle
and show me life's not so bad?
She thinks it's just too late now.
I know I'm already grown.
But I could use her friendship
while I raise kids of my own.
A mom to tell my thoughts to.
A mom to share my fears.
Just someone to care for me
as I grow thoughout the years.
It's over now, I've begged her
to love me and to care.
But all I ever get from her
is that COLD, DEAD, STARE