The snow keeps falling
And it's too dangerous
To drive on the roads.

Everyone else is going
Home early from school
But I have to sit in this
Wretched classroom.

The roads are getting
Slippery and cars are
Getting in accidents but
I'm still stuck at school.

Don't they know that it's
Dangerous out there and
Getting worse each minute
They wait to let me leave?

So I’ll sit at this stupid desk
In this bland room and watch
The snow hit the window,
Dreaming of my bed.

You know that you shouldn't
Give them a piece of you.
You know that nothing but
Pain will come from it.

But you let yourself hope
That this time it will be
Different.
You convince yourself
That they will cherish that
Piece of your heart forever
And that one day, you can
Give yourself to them entirely.

Soon you realize that you
Were wrong for thinking that
They would love you and that
Your heart meant something.

The rejection stings and you
Place your heart back in it’s
Sealed box and tell yourself
That you won't open it for anyone.

But the hope blooms over and
Over again and each time
You open the box and take
A small piece of your heart
Out, only to have it rejected.

Then someone gives you
A piece of their heart and
You treat it the way you
Always wished yours would
Have been.

You decide that you
Can trust them with everything
You are and open that box
Once more.
But you find it empty and covered
In dust.

I sit there,
The only smell
The wine on my
Mother's breath while
She complains about her life.

She blames me for all of it;
My dad leaving us,
Guys not being interested,
Not making enough money.

I've tried and tried
But she still won't care
About them…
Or me.

I watch my siblings
All day each day.
I take them out of the
House when she gets
Drunk or high.
I don't ask for anything
In return.

I want her to acknowledge
That she messed me up,
She is an unfit mother,
She is selfish and cares
Only about men and drugs.

I want her to acknowledge
That I am the mother,
Not her.
I tuck the kids in at night.
I help them with homework.
I go to school events.
Where is she?
Sometimes I don't even know.

She’ll come home at midnight,
Stumbling her way about the
House with the smell of wine
On her breath.

I gently place the shards of glass back into
The frame
And ignore the way their jagged edges cut
My hands.

She stands on a chair
Looking out the window
Above the kitchen sink,
Scrubbing baby bottles,
Sippy cups, and baby
Food jars.

She sees her entire
Second grade class
Playing a game of
Tag without her.

The baby cries from
The bedroom.
She jumps down
And runs to the
Back of the house,
Dragging the chair
With her.

She jumps on the chair
And lifts the baby out
Of the crib.
She reminds herself
To support his head
While she walks to
Their mother’s door.

Her mother is asleep
In the arms of a different
Man than last week,
She smells the all-too
Familiar mixture of
*** and Wine.

The man opens his
Eyes and barks at
Her to get out.

She carries the baby
To the ratty couch
And feeds him
As they sit with the
Two other children,
Listening to her
Peers laughter through the
Window above the sink.