Susan Smith

A mother smothers her baby

With a pillow

Living in an old house

With boarded up windows

A victim buried in

A fetal position

A mother left behind a letter

She had written

I wonder who I'd be

If all these bad things

Didn't happen to me

I must be

The Virgin Mary

To create a son

Who will suffer so much

Her body was found

Under a bridge

She was recognised

As Susan Smith

Found her rusty car

At the botton of a lake

Her children's bodies inside

But their souls in Heaven

Why'd you do this to me

I was your baby

You made me

You made me

You made me

You made me

You made me

You made me