A Girl Named Tessa

a bottle of beer

the snap of a liter

a baby girl is born from cold, flaky ashes

stomped to the ground as the cigarette burns to the bud.

 

“how beautiful” “how precious”

her mother shared not these sentiments

“stay in your room” “go away”

blunt as the fist hitting on innocent skin.

 

her father no better

“mum’s the word” his shadow whispered,

always gone to work a lifeless job

lifeless as the family she was in

 

“gramma!” this girl cried,

desperate for attention.

“i hear you shorty, i hear you”

this grandma a better mother

 

Years pass, days repeat

this poor girl no longer naive.

grown to be a shell of her mother

or so history foresees

 

but in this, the girl wonders

“why should i be her”

when she’s a heart more warmer

“ill prove to be not like my mother”

 

and as it’s told

history only repeats

but for this girl, This girl

named Tessa, her future will be filled with glee.

This poem is about: 
Me

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741