I wish I could write.

Mother

My mother was born free
With wind dancing across her body
and sun rays kissing her skin

But her children built concrete jungles
That weigh heavy upon her breast,
Spilled their brothers' and sisters' blood
On her with their never ending wars,
Built roads that bind her body,
And rip into her flesh
In the name of progress

But my mother's heart remains strong
And she weeps for her children
Who abuse her body
And violate her love

My mother was born free
And we, her children,
Enslave her


Ignore my horrible excuse for poetry. It sucks. I wrote this for a poetry class. How exciting. It's Ok. Not great.