HRS,
Mother speaks.
She uses it as a curse word.
And I know they’re to blame,
For our troubles,
For the tears my family cries,
Upon separation.

HRS
My childish mind,
Couldn’t see the connection,
Between the nice ladies I see,
And the title of my problem.

I didn’t know,
That what I said,
Would determine my future.

I didn’t understand,
That the tears I cried,
Would lessen with time,
That I would harden,
Or forget what my family looks like.

I never imagined,
My brothers would never know,
Their oldest sister,
Or at least remember her.

I never knew,
I’d never see my parents again,
Or that I’d lose,
Everything they gave me,
Pictures,
Keepsakes,
You name it,
I don’t have it.

The tears I cry now,
Catch me by surprise,
And Mom’s not there no more,
To lend me her shoulder,
And let me stain her shirt,
With the tears I cry.

WHY DIDN’T I KNOW?
I wish I’d never met ,
The ladies from,
HRS.