Reality

My mother never liked when I was sad

It often made her very mad

My moms hands became my known common touch

I always had my prayer book in closet touch 

One day it all became too much

I couldn't even hold down my lunch

Busted lips and bruises became the pretty look

But it was okay because I always had my prayer book 

You were the only one there for me

You were the only one who could see

See the reality