Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Lori Mack Dec 2020
It means that I am no longer loved by that person,
Only hated no matter how hard I try.
I am not even thought of at all by that person.
And that I am expected to take care of everything,
Without any help not even a thank you.
It means if I defend myself in anyway
I will always be wrong,
I will always be the bad guy.
It means I no longer matter
And only exisist for finances or to be stolen from or used.
It means as long as my loved one is on it,
I will be there punching bag.
I'll be degraded, belittled, tore down
And reminded of every mistake I ever made.
Humiliated til there's nothing left of my self esteem...
It means I get to watch my handsome, talented, kind son
Turn into a monster at times.
And it means I have to watch him wilt,
While it slowly kills him,
And eventually he will die.
****** is a cold, decieving, serial killer.
First killing your heart,
Making you dead inside.
Yes many physically die,
But the greatest loss
Is how it kills your conscience,
Your morals, your values, your common sense.
And breaks down everyone around you.
Til they are dead inside too.
This is how ****** has effected me.
I truly believe that ****** is satan himself.
And It feels like God is just standing by,
Watching us like we are etertainment,
Doing nothing to stop it.
  Not even batting an eye....

           L. Mack

                12/16/2020
Lori Mack Feb 2019
My son goes to prison in 5 days... everyone sees the man who steals and uses ******... I see the sweet, gentle, loving boy I raised. When I visit him in jail, behind the glass is not that man you see. To me it's that 10 year old boy who sang "beautiful" by eminem to me when I was having a bad day. I see the 5 year old who started climbing cliffs on camping trips while I held my breath, I see the 12 year old who loved to bmx and was an amazing parkour,  I see the 9 year old who was filled with excitement when he got to meet mike row from ***** jobs and be behind the scenes. I see the 7 year old sledding down the hill with a huge grin whose picture was on the front page of the steamboat pilot. I see the teenager who tried so hard to help me and his brother survive on the streets and find food in dumpsters. I see the 15 year old who came and took his brother from me off the streets to give him a better life. I see my beautiful newborn as he is being placed in my arms for the first time. I see Brandon Scott Mustagog one of the most amazing talented human beings I have ever met. I see my son whom I love with everything in me. I know you can not see these things. I know you only see ****** and crime. But please when you speak of my son keep all of these things in mind.

L. Mack
2/2/19
Lori Mack Oct 2018
Handsome, strong willed and brave is my middle child.
He doesn't understand how much he means to me.
He is my bright and bold beacon light.
He is the breath in my lungs.
It's remarkable how much he is like me.
A repeat rebellious, determed, wild me. Stubborn, ornery, smart.
A fighter, survivor, problem solver.
Yup that's him but it is also me.
My mini me middle child.
Dedicated to my son Brandon Mustagog. Happy 22nd birthday son I love you
Lori Mack Sep 2018
Miss Conceal

I do everything not to feel.
This weight is way too real.
Too much I can't reveal.
Just call me Miss Conceal.

You may have seen me sitting quietly,
Or you may have seen me flash violently.
Most times I'm kind, soft spoken and sweet.
Others I'm searching for someone to defeat.
My love for family and friends,
Runs deep and it never ends.
If you hurt them I'm ready to fight.
You'll be my prey I'll hunt you all night.
I'm just as nice as I can be.
My smile I wear for all too see.

I do everything not to feel.
This weight is way too real.
Too much I can't reveal.
Just call me Miss Conceal.

Control is what I crave.
It's best if you behave.
Take my advice for your sake.
No one wants this demon to wake.
If you need help I'll lend a hand.
Hard times and struggles I understand.
I'll give you the shirt off my back,
Help you get your life back on track.
Take me for granted and you'll see,
How dark, cold and demented I can be.

I do everything not to feel.
This weight is way too real.
Too much I can't reveal.
Just call me Miss Conceal.


   L. Mack
    
      9/24/18
Lori Mack Sep 2018
Puppet Master

You crept in like a mischievious thief.
Intrigued, decieved and retrieved my son.
Influencing and destroying his beautiful life.
Diminished his hopes, his dreams and his self-esteem.
Convincing him he had no future,
No love, no value was to his life.
Your wicked silk spun web of deadly lies,
Mislead him to believe,
That happiness and love cease to exist.
This is your fuel,
This your fire.
Your one and only desire.
You will not quit until they all expire.
******, black, H or tar,
You are a seductive liar.
Your needle point claws buried deep his arm,
Dripping with your poisonous conceit.
Now you are his puppet master.
Dominating his mind, his thoughts and his words.
Your malicious acts preformed through him,
Make him look wild, insane and disturbed.
Each day in your tight intense grip,
My son dwindled and shriveled away.
Becoming your molded and trained apprentice.
Coached to perfection in your twisted ways.
You are as bad as a ******,
A murderer and even more.
I hate you ******!!
You started a war.
I will not let you win!
Let go of my loved and cherished son.
Let him live a full and beautiful life.
I surrender to you myself.
Volunteer my own life.
Take me instead,
Be my puppet master,
Enslave me,
And let my baby live.

L. Mack

9/20/18
Lori Mack Sep 2018
A wife's love

Two souls and one thought, two hearts and one pulse.
My father passed away February 1st 2009.
In his home, in his own bed.
My mother heard him take his long last deep breath.
I asked her if she held his hand or kissed him or maybe a little hug.
“No I did nothing.” she said. Filled with anger,
knowing he must have felt alone at that very important moment.
“WHY NOT!” I said. “He needed you!”
I should have thought with love instead of speaking with anger.
Being the strong rock foundation of our family,
she held her voice strong replying,
“If I would have allowed myself that,
he would have taken another breath.
And that would be cruel of me to selfishly intrude and not let him go.”
she explained briefly how she heard and recognized
his last exhale,
stopped , listened ,walk closer and made herself stop, releasing him to God .
My sister was sleeping on the couch beside him.
Dad’s peaceful silence woke her right away
(he had that kinda presence) she went to him and my mother grabbed her and shook her head no,
putting her finger on her lips. From a ways they listened and watched silently
until they knew he was gone for sure and gave it even longer just in case.
Finally allowing themselves to go and see, kiss, touch, feel, farewell, and grieve him. Letting themselves exhale deeply with relief.
Oh mom so enduring, amazing and strong willed.
Please teach me, educate me, and shower me in your knowledge and understanding!
Give me strength, selflessness and acceptance.

L. Mack
3/2010
Dedicated to my mother.
Lori Mack Sep 2018
A Brother Lost....

One night, one call, all lost.
Instant shock, heart stopped, breath gone.
Our family tree so painfully torn.
No, couldn’t be true… I knew.
Quick, hurry, rush. Have to leave, must go.
Arrive, open the door, pastor is here.
He wants to sit and talk.
Don't want to sit, are you crazy?
Leave me be, let me see.
(Thinking to myself) It's okay, I can fix him.
Not to worry, he will be alright.
Watch I can wake him up, just give me the chance.
Looking down at the body bag, I knew...
They say “Are you sure you want to see him.”
What!! Got to see, need to see! I nodded.
That cold, ugly, black bag.
It's way too quite. The zipper is loud.
There he lay, still, too still.
He looks really good. It's okay, just a scratch.
The smile gave him away. Huh, not dead.
I told myself,
He is fne, it's a joke. He plays them all the time.
See him grin, that onery grin, not dead.
I am sure he's faking it.
Just shake him, wake him up. Probably passed out drunk.
Watch he'll get up. He pulled off a good one this time.
He's not dead, not with that grin.
I focused for any movement... None.
Ha, ha very funny, you pulled it off, you win.
Listen… Shhh…. Nothing....
Can't hear him breath.
It's not funny any more. Wake up, move, do something!!
Hey, come on. That’s enough! Get up, let's go.
Breath, Lance, Breath. NO, NO, NO, NO, NO!!!
Lance?!?! Oh God, Lance?!?! Oh no! Lance?!?
No, no!! It's true. He is dead, he's dead!!
Than I heard my first shaky words.
“Are you sure he is dead?”
“Yes” the coroner said.
“What did you get yourself into this time
Lance?”
Cruel thing to say, I didn’t mean it, just came out.
He was gone, really gone.
Softly, I stroked his hair, leaned in and kissed his forehead.
There was nothing more I could do...

Walked outside to smoke.
I was the first one here.
Soon our family will be here.
Oh no, I forgot it's mom and dad's anniversary.
They will never celebrate it again...
Have to be strong for all of them.
Three cigarettes later, they are all here.
So many packed into one car.
Somber faces, walked in ever so quietly.
One by one, yet strongly together.
We all looked down at him.
A few tears, not many from one sister.
Whispering to him “No more pain, Bubbie, no
More pain.”
Left to go get some air, I think.
My oldest son tried hard not to cry, but moist was his face with fresh tears.
I held him tight, tried to ease his pain.
Mom was trying to be professional about it, conversating with the coroner.
She never looked so hallow before...
Dad, poor dad, took it really hard.
He was so lost and confused.
I had never seen him this broken before...
No tears from the oldest sibling. 
Only her face showed her agony.

Our brother was gone.
A son was dead.
Father to four, no more.
A friend to many.
It was soberly true.
One by one, we quietly stepped outside.
All is silent, lost in our hazy thoughts.
My brain, it's frozen, can't function.
Someone please say something, anything.
I couldn't bare not to hear, some kind of noise.
All of us surrounded, yet so very alone.
Finally, they headed back home.
First one here, last one to go.
I couldn't comprehend leaving him there.
He was cold, and becoming stiff...
Up went the zpper.
Alone in that dark black bag.
Nothing I could do. I had to leave him there.

I was overwhelmed with guilt.
We argued the last time we spoke.
He was the only one in our family that ever truly showed me love.
Every breath I took burned.
My soul was disgusted with me.
What was left of my heart, shriveled up.


At the funeral,
I heard the most horrific, sorrowful cries...
Then I realized, the cries were coming from me.
Oh God, please let this be a nightmare..
I remembering trying to pick him up and hold him, hug him. I needed my big brother's bear hug, where I always felt safe.
Everyone was gasping reminding me of his children.
I let him go and said, “My brother was my hero, and he was my best friend.”
I cried so hard for so long, that there was no more tears, yet I was still crying.
At the cemetery, it became more real.
When his casket was being lowered down I collapsed.
“Lance, no, no!!"
My father pulled me up.
I looked at him in disbelief, saying “Daddy, we can't just leave him down there, we can't!!”
“I know sis, but we have to.”

A piece of me was buried that day too.
My heart still mourns.
Life has never been the same again.
Lance, I love you brother.
The wind is still knocked out of me.
Even after almost 12 years.
Bubbie, I miss you so much!
Til i see you again....


Lori Lee Mack
Copyright
03/18/2010
Revised 04/28/2018


Robert Lance Mack
March 18 1967 - June 7 2006
(Our parents 53rd wedding anniversary)
39 years old
Left behind four children
Walk in my shoes as I experience the loss of my brother. True story.
Next page