Walking through the blood-stained streets
I mournfully look to the right
"Mother, oh mother!" I cry
The resemblance is there -
But it is not my mother.
I knew it could not be true
They said she was dead -
That she would never come back.
Now I am destined to
Spend my days seeing
A resemblance of those not there.
This poem was written for an assignment for my Junior High English class. It is written from the view…
