Dear Madre

Madre, The Spanish word of mother. How we see them as loving role model that help lift the sorrows in out lives. But what about their sorrows? How they feel when you are not there, wishing they could spend more time. Knowing that their time will come. Just like when your stepfather comes home. With a six pack of Cornea and cigerattes. Fear is within the eyes of the victim, their pleas and cries drown out with blasting music. Children not noticing what goes on with their parents behind closed doors. Mothers coming out with makeup all over of covering the bruises and scars. From the beating has occurs over time. But they still have a smile on their face, once again become a happy loving figure. For they are strong and doesn't want their little ones to suffer their own faith. For this poem I dedicated to my own mother and the other woman who stand strong from their lives of unhappiness.