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closed in around me.
Happy Endings
I’d like to give you one.
But I’m not really sure
how this story ends myself.
Being a mother is hard
A lot harder than I imagined.
My baby boy is beautiful.
I sense an Old Soul within him.
But he cries a lot and he
doesn’t really sleep like a
newborn should. No lectures,
okay? I accept my part.
I watch my mom with my son,
loving him, as she must have
loved me. She’s patient when
he cries. She paces him to sleep.
I wish I could be like that. But
I’m only 17.1 feel like life is passing
me by as I stand here on the deck,
listening to him fuss inside.
Sometimes I want to curl up in
a ball and roll away. Sometimes
I just want to die. I only know one
thing that can make me laugh again.
Crank is more than a drug.
It’s a way of life. You can
turn your back. But you can
never really walkaway.
The monster will forever speak
