and dispose of your feelings.
Disrupt your home changing
the love between it’s ceiling.
Take advantage of your kindness and make you appear weak.
Offer you advice,
but advise you not to speak.
Teach you candor and wit ,
criticising your speeches flow.
Talk down to you in front of others,
until esteem’s an all-time low.
Not be attractive,
yet play hard to get.
Close in on your assets
and never bust a sweat.
In order to change this,
you must find the starting betrayer.
If known to you as a dragon,
you must be the slayer.
May have even brought you into this world, prepped to keep a survivalist smile, being the first born and only girl.
Well, consider your beginnings,
as being forfeiture from the womb.
Do you continue on forward, or seal this as your doom?
By all means, thank that parent for your existence thus far,
but distance yourself,
for loving results forever go unseen,
as you wait breaking your own heart.
For all effort, starts on they’re clock, but as selfishness prevails,
it remains stunted and half-cocked.
So the question is, what do you do,
if you weren’t loved by the one,
that had you?
“You only get one Mother”,
is heard throughout your life,
So you remain respectful, but do you hold in views, continuing to swallow your pride?“
Do you continue accepting the losses, even as a parent and adult?
Or just come to grips, by moving forward, knowing none of it’s your fault?
Do you tell your own children,
you tried extremely hard,
to respect and pray for this being, but it was never in their heart?
Do you sit down, and recall the talks, that went way off base?
Where you questioned your life’s bearer, and they literally laugh in your face?
Do you tell them, if it wasn’t for Grandma, in which you lived,
that you wouldn’t have learned about Love, or knew how to give it?
From the standpoint in which my feet are posted,
you prepare your own,
for the good, and protect them from the bad of life, mostly.
teach of forfeiture’s defeat,
at least that way,
no one’s able, too snatch memories and happiness,
from under their feet.
Poetry By Tamara Moore
Thinker on the loose
Copyright 2015 (c) Reserved for Tamara L Dorsey-Moore