by Elisabeth Mcgrath

Created on: September 18, 2011   Last Updated: April 27, 2012

“Your mother’s a retard” she hears them shout
The taunting words keeping invading her head
She burrows deeper into the blankets
And wishes that she could stay in her bed.

Twenty years later, she still hears the cries
But this time directed against her child
She wonders again about genetics
And the genes that are in DNA filed
As a new generation faces once more
The going-nowhere revolving door.

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