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Were You Proud?

 

It’s eleven O’clock when I can hear you come in.

I have no idea where you have been.

You left this morning, and cooked no food.

I guess you weren’t in the mood.

 

I tried to fix myself a drink.

But broke a glass in the sink.

The peanut butter made a huge mess.

I got jelly all over my favorite dress.

 

I peek out from behind my bedroom door

And you start yelling like you did before.

“What is this mess you left in here?”

I’m scared to answer, I can’t think clear.

 

When I see you’re walking down the hall,

It was 911 I wanted to call.

“I knew you were going to be mad at me,

But Mommy, don’t hurt me pretty please!”

 

You can’t hit back when you’re only four.

Mommy doesn't love me anymore.

I screamed for help, I cried in pain,

But no one listens to me complain.

 

Meth and alcohol are everything to you.

You aren't the Mommy that I once knew.

Kicking me as you yell aloud

I wondered, were you proud?

 

You slap and beat me with your hands.

Hands that use to understand.

Lying on the floor, I took my last breath,

Were you proud as my eyes closed in death?

 

By Brenda L. Peterson

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