deepundergroundpoetry.com
Thinking About Ma
11/2/12
Cold. It's how my blood runs now.
I took the cross my mother gave me and locked it away.
She would never want to believe the feats I've committed.
Yet again the whiskey cradles me, in the way she never could.
Cold. It's how my blood runs now.
I took the cross my mother gave me and locked it away.
She would never want to believe the feats I've committed.
Yet again the whiskey cradles me, in the way she never could.
Published 21st Jan 2013
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 1
reading list entries 0
comments 1
reads 542
Commenting Preference:
The author encourages honest critique.
25th Jun 2014 4:38am
Double jeopardy, deep hurt as seen by a numbed drunken muse. Tragedy compounded. Parents can be vile, emerge from their shadows freely.
