Me Ma Was a Crack Head
Me
ma
was
a
crack
head
when
I
was
a
pup,
Everything
she
tried
doing
completely
f*cked
up,
She'd
buy
a
new
mobile
next
day
take
it
back,
Like
nothing
else
mattered
'long's
she
got
her
crack,
Me
ma
was
a
crack
head
and
each
day
she
tried,
To
quit
but
it
fell
like
the
crack
tears
she
cried,
When
she
had
the
urge
there
was
really
no
doubt,
We
all
dreaded
the
minute
her
bits
had
run
out,
Me
ma
was
a
crack
head,when
Christmas
time
came,
She
did
what
she
had
to,went
out
on
the
game,
To
ensure
Christmas
morning
our
dreams
were
complete,
And
always
we
got
the
best
toys
in
the
street,
The
best
clothes
and
trainers,came
from
Santas
sack,
Even
if
it
meant
she'd
ended
up
with
no
crack,
Me
ma
was
a
crack
head
and
crack
was
her
game,
And
yes
us
kids
often
hung
our
heads
in
shame,
But
those
days
we
were
too
young
to
understand
why,
Didn't
realise
that
crack
would
someday
make
her
die,
Wish
that
we'd
known
back
then
what
we've
come
to
know
now,
And
that
we
could
have
helped
her
just
didn't
know
how,
Me
ma
was
a
crack
head
and
smoked
crack
all
day,
Never
bothered
with
drugs
lest
they're
stamped
with
class
A,
Once
she
starts
on
the
crack
pipe
she
seldom
looked
back,
Me
ma
was
a
crack
head
and
loved
smoking
crack,
But
with
all
of
those
years
of
wrecking
her
head,
She's
no
longer
a
crack
head
cause
now
me
ma's
dead.
Copyright © Julie Ann Jones | Year Posted 2013
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment