Burnt Bread

Sitting in a rocker
Waiting on bread
"Don't bother  her,
She's just gotten out of bed"

Not much different
Than any days before
Stuck in her mind of non contentment
Always staring at the door

Not so much a family
Just a group of people, to get in each other's way
No talking happily
Just rooms of tension and decay

Only two moods
Depressed and angry
I guess it's what makes up you
But it's driving me crazy

I feel selfish
When I get mad
About you, you seem so helpless
So I feel bad, when I also, become sad

Mom, please come home
Please just escape
From that hell mind of your own
Please come back to a place

With every attempt
To see you smile
It all is exempt
After a while

I sit in my room
And stare into space
Noise is too much for you
So I silently rot away

I wonder what would happen
Should I ever leave
Would you still be sitting
In your rocking chair, care free

If I come through the doors
Many years later
Would you recognize the stranger on the floor
Or would you burst in anger

Would I still find you where you are
Out of your mind
Out of your head

Would I still find you
Sitting
Waiting
To take out the burnt bread?