Jennifer

Jennifer, you wear your fur coats

And keep looking down on those

Who take a principled stand.

You’ve gone by your middle name

To escape the name your mother gave you.

You focus on other things because

Ultimately your entire life is about

What she did or did not give you.

And Jennifer I know you were a victim

During those horrible years.

Years later you needed to remain a victim though

You became a void

That your children will have to cope with.



You were never strong

You just sat quietly

While others were crushed.

You stood at attention

Ignoring everything else around you

Like these were war games.

Now others have to cope with the wounds;

The atrocities of your games,

Because you were not strong enough for war.



You shed so much of what you were

Just so you could not get hurt.

You became the beautiful woman you wanted to be

Trapped in the gilded cage of your own making.

If you die first, then it is a suicide

If they die first, its because you let them.

Either way its that death which is your legacy

Maybe the beautiful fur coats are your plea

To interpret it differently.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

06-12-2010.  Please critique this poem.

View rashmiitz's Full Portfolio
Luther Doyle's picture

I believe this is a good, well written poem; at this time, I would not recommend any changes.