belief holds endearing
sleep and worry
thoughts keep stirring
hopping into hoping
cousins gone doping
mama's gone roping
and you
you come stomping
stomping
and knocking at my door
stop
stop I say
knock no more
sober and sparking
fighting for reason
no one having fun
room for only one
daddy's gone Rocking
left nothing in the stocking
And you
you come plotting
plotting
and knocking at my door
stop
stop I say
knock no more
fight for nothing
steady as we go
the number one son
has come undone
grandma drive's for Jesus
she’s never coming home
and you
you come stalking
stalking
and knocking at my door
stop
stop I say
knock no more
Terry D'Arcy-Ryan
The first place I called home after prison, Apartment # 205. I lived there with my son 30, my two nephews in their 20's and my sister. This was a very small apartment no room for more than one and there were five of us. The constant knocking for the boys of friends, girls and party's. My sister and I always had our ex's trying to move in. We all had different schedules. The knocking represents the revolving door open 24/7 and temptation itself. I mock the family unit here over and over because there is no order in mine at present. I can endure almost anything for family but the day my son brought home a puppy I tapped out. If your still reading thank you and God Bless.