when i was seven, <br />every night my mother <br />bound me in front of <br />our old lawaan table <br />that my grandfather <br />made for me <br />so i can savor <br />the taste of education <br />i felt bitter, i hate my mother <br />when she hit me and <br />whenever i showed my instability, <br />my inclination got me <br />into meer drawings and sketchings <br />of dolls and houses <br />i wish to built but failed <br />in my frailty, my fondness <br />brought me the other way. <br />i know i have lapses, i never <br />read books and listen <br />to mother seriously. but i have <br />the passion, i made my action <br />fixed in Achilles heel.<br /><br />HAZEL Calumarde<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/at-seven/
