In the cradle of shadows, she whispers lies,
Promises wrapped in silence, hidden from sight,
A tender facade, beneath a stormy guise,
Where dreams are lost in the endless night.

Her touch, a cold breeze that chills to the bone,
Words like daggers, cutting deep, unseen,
Love spoken softly, yet never truly shown,
A masquerade of care, painted in a sheen.

Children seeking warmth find only frost,
In a world where affection is a fleeting ghost,
Echoes of laughter, now forever lost,
In a house where love is but a boast.

Yet hope flickers, a distant, dim flame,
In hearts that yearn for the gentle embrace,
Dreams of a mother that never came,
In the aching void, they find their grace.