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Secrets I was begotten of suffering, Designed by sorrow, A philanthropist's dream. I was to end the tears. There was a sudden stirring in my womb. I had to care for and protect, My children within my walls. My motherly duties I did perform. So many screams have I heard. How could I soothe? Within night's cold embrace, So many secrets do I hold. To hear my children crying out, And to see no one answer. Such a pain do I carry to my core. It seems as though no one cares anymore. Perhaps I feel the pains of any mother, Who's children have left home. But, somehow I feel neglected, And left wondering how they fare. But my children didn't leave, And they were not ready to. My children were stolen, Leaving my heart crumbling. I was brilliant in my youth, But am now tumbling down. I was once the talk of the town, Now only a hushed whisper. Can anyone hear me screaming? Do not forget my children! Can anyone hear my screaming? Won't anyone help me? Tara Marie McNeely May 4, 2003 |
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