An addict’s mother crying, as the day begins.
Endless prayers are rising,
her hope speaks to win.
But battles are not owned by mothers on the side.
And gloves may be on, but never touch the fight.
And tears flow like falls of rain, down a sliding slope.
Debris will shatter through the pain of using the unknown.
Numbness rallies to her heart, protection from the lies.
And cold beats the heart apart and hides behind her eyes.
They don’t know what fear is, the nights that scream outloud.
Every call jumps her heart, the beaded sweat upon her brow.
Nightfall comes fast, and the mind let’s go.
With images and horrid thoughts of what an addict’s mother knows.
When nothings left but the humble prayers,
those she’s said each day.
Tears will cease but inward glares
of haunting hopes will stay.
Her eyes close to rest, and a hurting heart beats on.
For the cycle spins in awkward breath,
of a beloved addict’s mom.
-Praying for them all.
Authentic Truths 