Mom
My mother is a gypsy, with more than a few secrets
She has a relationship with a few substances
All those dark rooms that began to be lit
Mean nothing now, because of these instances
I wanted her to see herself in the light
I wanted her to listen to me so she could know
The beauty I see in her eyes of night
And the comprehension of freak show
I get it, Mom, life has hurt you worst
Than you ever were expecting it too
Now, the crystals and angels got to you first
And you're lost, you'll never know the truth
Bipolar, schizophrenic, addict of many sorts
I wanted to save you and see you again
And now, I have to let it be God's chore
You have to be the Holy Spirit's friend
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
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
