These pretty little fingers – they stole your almost everything, or so it does indeed seem
Too many hidden beers in the downtrodden a.m. and soon you manage to miss the entirety of your daughter’s stolen upbringing
Mammoth mornings when the choice turned out to be just too difficult to make
The downright treacherous nature of an outright unasked for addiction sending you into irreparable dereliction time and again
When she cried inside of her scratched-out cot a million ways over
Wanting, so very much as needing her adolescent Mommy to make the correct decision
But you couldn’t, could you?
Barely sober
This outrageous pull turning out to be far too difficult altogether
When there remains but a choked beer in one hand, baby in the other
And you just cannot decide how much of you truly ever longed to be a real mother
Mind over matter yet this particularly slippery-slope just seems to matter too much – mind-boggling coping mechanisms
Barbaric mind-prison
Suffering in silence right the whole way through
If only her father knew

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