Broken, Hopeless Lie
She stared in her mother’s eyes and asked “will it hurt when you die? ”
by Antoinette Winter
“Or will it only be me who cries? ”
Her mother responded in a silky tone “No, my love it will not hurt”
Inside she pleaded her eyes not to show, tears that never freely flowed.
She looked at her mother as she broke.
When alone she would cry for the day it would finally die that hopelessness she felt inside.
Her life was broken from the pain.
The disease ate her faith away.
When alone her eyes would tumble, down a rain so hopeless and broken.
In that hospital room all alone.
No one heard her plead her love.
On her death bed she let go of that slightly ripping thread.
She declared herself dead, letting go of that ripping thread.
The girl stood in front of the stone.
The tears running shone.
Now she knew the broken, hopeless lie.
That love doesn’t die.
Because all she felt was hopeless and broken.
It doesn’t hurt when you die, what a hopeless, broken lie.
Broken and cold a mother lies beneath the stone.
A mother who never let go of the slightly ripping thread, a tiny hope of love.
© 2007 by Antoinette Winter