There were no lullabys, no kisses or hugs, just a bottle of pain and guilt given daily to the unwanted Baby Girl

Sometimes Mama still places a quilt of pain upon my bed,
Then painful flashbacks dance about in my head.
Fears and doubts rob me of sleep,
I am once again that quaking child, left alone to weep.
Cruel taunting words were my only lullaby,
They continued util Mama made me cry.
Mission accomplished, a job well done,
My tears were her victory, she had won.
Now she visits me from her grave, to cover me with her quilt,
The quilt made from cruelty, torment and my guilt.
I tried but with Mama I could never win,
Though daily I tried again and again.
When I feel the quilt surround me, I close my eyes real tight,
Silently praying, that I survive the night.