(no subject)
Mama doesn't clean.
Dishes pile, rugs in turmoil, newspapers scattered from gritty floors to dingy counter tops.
She sleeps and sleeps, as dust continues to cake vacuums, rags, and mops.
Mama doesn't clean.
Mama doesn't care.
Papa won't come out of his garage again, brother went for another ride with the police man, sister cries as she tries to do the very best she can.
Mama doesn't care.
Mama doesn't love.
Brother finds comfort in bloody wrists, papa went away, sister turns to God for the love she pleads and so desperately needs each and every day.
Mama doesn't love.
Mama doesn't move.
Still and cold she lays there without a single withered gasp.
For once there's not a syringe in her frail and trembling grasp.
Mama doesn't move.
Mama didn't clean.
Needles and more needles, empty bottles, assorted pills decorated the floor,
even though it's long gone the too familiar image will be burned into my soul ever more.
Mama didn't clean.
Dishes pile, rugs in turmoil, newspapers scattered from gritty floors to dingy counter tops.
She sleeps and sleeps, as dust continues to cake vacuums, rags, and mops.
Mama doesn't clean.
Mama doesn't care.
Papa won't come out of his garage again, brother went for another ride with the police man, sister cries as she tries to do the very best she can.
Mama doesn't care.
Mama doesn't love.
Brother finds comfort in bloody wrists, papa went away, sister turns to God for the love she pleads and so desperately needs each and every day.
Mama doesn't love.
Mama doesn't move.
Still and cold she lays there without a single withered gasp.
For once there's not a syringe in her frail and trembling grasp.
Mama doesn't move.
Mama didn't clean.
Needles and more needles, empty bottles, assorted pills decorated the floor,
even though it's long gone the too familiar image will be burned into my soul ever more.
Mama didn't clean.