it's starting...again...and again
sometimes, it's all i can do... write it out.
An Addict, A Mother, and The Weather
My baby weight still clings to me and pulls me down, heavy, in pain.
It is the afterbirth that never leaves. Like a parasite, it remains.
Why are you ignoring me? I haven't any clothes. Help! Help! Mommy, Please!
Are the sounds of my baby's woes.
These days of November rain, he's crawling in supplication, suckling for more nourishment from my well of dry impatience.
And here I am again, a manipulated pawn, used by this addict, who happens to be my son.
Lord, will it ever end, the journey I trudge in mud and mire?
Please, I ask you give me back my son and take away this liar.
Poetry by Kathy Lockhart
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Written on 2017-11-02 at 05:51
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