mother.

a slave to the the bottle, she staggers

death is the only way to set her free

crippling away, she slithers

a victim of life, succumbed to the pain

reaching out my hand to grasp her

begging her hold on, hold on please

I am reduced to a beggar, she is my master

i must serve her, she must be pleased

calling the frail remains of a girl

she wears a mask but her soul is transparent

someday, one day, I said that i loved her

i struggle to say the same today

know not where she went,

but what she became

sweet like wine turned a rotten grape

a dried out date, bitter and stale

hate is such a strong word for such a weak soul

but just like me, it's not enough.