Stop bearing that cross; you’re gonna need the wood.
She rued the sacrifices of motherhood.
She thrived on everyone’s “poor & pitiful you.”
Everybody’s escaping; leaving her blue.
Yeah…that’s a spun story. For, she dug her pit.
She was a crocodile & her tears were shit.
Only electric when her kids were hurting.
With their lives & disaster she was flirting.
Kept it up & her shoulders froze from the cold.
That cross may be handy, for warmth, when she’s old.
L.B.Stowe 