Philosophy | Class Poetry | Essay Work | Anthology Work
 

Letter Poem
By Jana Ogden

Mom,
It's been three years
And I can hardly remember you voice.
It used to echo through our house,
But that's long past.


Dad's already remarried,
I guess he need someone to look after him.
But I hate him for it anyway.


Mom,
I cut my hair, and
Died it black.
I try so hard not to look like you.
At least I don't sry when I look in the mirroe anymore.


Three years is a long time.
Sometimes I forget what it's like to have a mom,
And sometimes
I hate you for that.