this is ... hidden
sweet pain which courses her veins
tears stream, the untouchable's life
bittersweet fruit from which she has partaken
sour life gilded with children's laughter
little fingers create, little mouths question
little hearts fill to brim
with love for their mother
but a mother's love is only so strong
when lover's love is nowhere found
and she gently tucks her pixies in
turns to bed to weep again
less than whole, subtly lacking soul
entwin'd within her breast these days
warm body once beside her, no longer
empty chamber looms vast inside the mind
heart rests, quietly, never understanding
why no one will love her for who she is

self-pity released, get back to work, little girl.