Traumatic Childhood

Their feuds kept her up at night,

And to cope she’d say things were alright.

That was until one day

She saw father’s decay

And on mother’s face: pure delight.

Morning Quiet

She wakes up to pale light and peace,

Hazy head and brown hair with light grease.

But count to three,

And recall, will she,

The car crash left her son deceased.