Another sunrise, another day
And still, she has very little to say
She calls up from rehab, to talk sick'ning-sweet
About all the folks she now has at her feet
“People from all-walks, who’ve played my same card!
We do meetings, and yoga, and walks in the yard!
And the food is so filling, and tastes pretty great
No wonder inpatients here always gain weight!”
“I’ve met Sally, and Kate, and Pauline, (who loves Pink)
And we’re all the same! We cheat and we drink!
Then there’s Betty, and Paula, and Beth, and Marie
All of these people exactly like me!”
And the thing she repeats in the children’s ears:
“Mommy’s working real ******* herself, my dears!”
As if NOTHING had HAPPENED, talking softly and sweet
But even in rehab, continues to cheat
Not that “WE” could be mended, it’s far past that point
But it ****** me off that while she’s in that joint
Spending our money to get pampered, and “well”…
She’s still chatting on phone calls with HIM. Go to hell!
She’s been nigh three-weeks-sober for the first time in years
When she calls me to talk, it is not to shed tears,
Nor beg for forgiveness for adulterous ways
And say that she’s sorry she’s wasted my days
But to ask why the children won’t pick up their phones
As she’s still talking daily to the geezer she bones
I ask, “…you really love him?”, she confirms that it’s true,
With a casual cruelty, as I’m cut right in two.