Her mother and sister packed up the car
And all three had left, never to be seen.
Her father had given her a scar
By saying that she’ll never gain anything in life.
So the trio got to New Mexico
Where they stayed for a bit for strife,
Dealing the weathers of New Mexico.
And then they moved up north,
And when they hit on of the mountains in Oregon,
They went forth
And ran through a pink cloud until they got to a gas station where they
met a truck man.
“Nice weather today,” he said.
‘Nice weather?’ thought the trio
as they gagged and shivered at the site of the pink cloud, thinking he must be an airhead,
as they filled up their auto
When my mother was in school,
She thought the world was a jackass.
Mainly was a toadstool
For the teachers she had.
The trio managed to get by
In a small but livable pad
For they couldn’t deny.
Several years later,
Where she’s a grown woman
She’s someone you wouldn’t want to bother
Who isn’t broken.
This is her daughter
Who thinks of her as a hero
But also had altered
Her mother’s life that was given to her to bestow.
A few years ago, her father
Had died from several medical problems.
She doesn’t think about what he said to her
All those years ago as she and the other two ran for their freedoms.
Before they ran away,
He used to beat them.
It wasn’t her dismay
That she was condemned
From her father’s memory
For she was dead to him.