I know you never wanted
to breed an addict,
it's just one of those
uncontrollable risks that
accompanies parenting.
Or was it controllable?
I remember, as far back as
ten years old, you cursing freely
while I was in the room;
never directed at me though,
thank God.
You told me once, when I was twelve,
a playful smile on your face as you
gripped the steering wheel at 10 and 2,
that you wouldn't be surprised if I
became just as foul-mouthed as you.
Well gee, I wouldn't even utter
the word "God" for a year after that conversation.
But then the teen years hit,
those dastardly years of
storm and stress...
and rebellion.
That's where my addiction began,
in the midst of middle school.
What started out as a rebellious experiment
has quickly spiraled into
an uncontrollable addiction.
Oh, Mother;
we share the same looks, same jokes,
hell, even the same gender--
now add another commonality to our list:
the mouth of a sailor.
Been hit by a serious bout of writer's block lately, idk how I feel about this one