He didn’t like the curry
And he didn’t like my cake.
He said my biscuits were too hard..
Not like his mother used to make.
I didn’t prepare the coffee right
He didn’t like the stew,
I didn’t mend his socks
The way his mother used to do.
I pondered for an answer
I was looking for a clue.
Isn’t there anything I could do
To match his mothers shoe?
Then I smiled as I saw light,
One thing I could definitely do…
I turned around and slapped him tight,
Like his mother used to do!
Raised my hand to push the door knob,
Went back to my room, with a hurting throb
Cried out all until, I couldn’t see
I asked to god, why you did this to me?
I don’t want to live with this new mom person
Is it so bad to be an adopted orphan?
I liked to take beating from my mom,
For later she used to love me like soothing balm.