White Dress Poem by Tyler Cooley

The mother dressed in white
Her wrappings carried through the night
This weight upon the world
Imperfection far from sight
Masochism is the nature
Of the ones that brave the storm
Dusted, buried in the bitter
In the middle of the war

The mother dressed in white
Her children hide away
The father unforgiving
In the cursed gift he has lain
The wind cuts like a razor
A wound that only time can heal
Whether help comes from the fire
Or when they finally cease to feel

The mother dressed in white
She's the center of the ball
With every eye upon her
Heartless, yet so beautiful
The only dance the mother knows
Is one that no one can repeat
One she learned before the fall
Perfected through eternity