Mother's Fate (Pt.2) Poem by Rebecca Springsteen

Her mother is here again,

with her friends at the cemetery, joined

with hands together as a link.

She finally sees the studio

where she did it, now

all she smells is bleach. Little one's track

of all her songs, she can hear her sing in that sweet voice.

The television is on, showing some violence.

She was her number one fan,

she did it anyway, even the views

her daughter clipped

from the internet, it was of her and little one. Looking new,

is the paper with her lovely face on it, with the death

of her only child. No one really knows what

she died from, because she was ripped from the out

side in, just like the heavy metal song.

On the walls are pictures with shots

of her friends. If only that could be proof.

But her mother surely isn't done.