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