In the quiet of the hour when twilight bends,

A tale unfolds, woven in silken threads,

Of a mother’s heart, once tender and bright—

A flicker dimmed, lost in the shadows of night.

Jealous whispers dripped like honey from her lips,

As envy took grip, forged chains on her daughter’s trip,

Through childhood's years, a bond meant to bloom,

Twisted and distorted, a flower of gloom.

“Your father’s love,” she’d say, “is never sincere,”

Poisoning laughter with venomous fear,

A girl full of light, with dreams in her gaze,

Now trapped in a labyrinth, lost in the maze.

With each word that fell like a stone from above,

The child lost her way, her heart turned to love,

Not for the man who gifted her life,

But instead for the tumult, the chaos, the strife.

Now a victim of images, filtered and stark,

A professional role, cast in the dark,

She learned to manipulate, to twist and to weave,

Building a story where truth could deceive.

Oh, the lies that were spun, like a spider’s fine web,

Caught the hearts of many, where once love had tread.

She painted her pain with colors of blame,

Victimizing the men, erasing their names.

“How could it be me?” she would silently cry,

Feeling the pull of her mother’s dark lie,

The father she adored now a face turned away,

His love buried deep, lost in the fray.

Years rolled on, like waves on the shore,

The foundation of trust—shattered, no more.

The laughter once shared, now echoes of pain,

In the recess of memory, forever in vain.

The child, now a woman, walks heavy with shame,

A heart once so whole, now the ghost of a flame,

And though she wears scars that were branded with time,

The echo of truth remains lost in the grime.

Who casts the first stone, when hearts break in twain?

When jealousy grows in the shadows of gain,

A mother’s fierce envy became a dark art,

Creating a chasm that shattered a heart.

So here in this silence, as dusk settles low,

A plea for the lost—may they one day know,

That love’s deeper roots, grown through laughter and tears,

Can endure even silence, can conquer all fears.

Yet the fractures remain, an unhealed rift,

Between a daughter’s longing and a love once adrift,

For the father she yearned for, forever will ache,

In this long-empty poem, where hearts slowly break.