I am used to bond things… I am used to make knots to your desire I was proud to be me… I never thought I would be above a chair I screamed for her to stop She didn’t listen It was like she couldn’t hear me I watched her write something I wish I could’ve comforted her Tip….Knock…Crack Her mother walks in I am ashamed to be holding her daughter She falls to the floor sobbing “What have you done my sweet baby” She unfoled the note with such care She sobs more Her sobs dwell into the night...