Hey mom,
I wish I could have stuck around
So you could have taught me
On how to be a better man,
Yet I ran
From the shadows
That grabbed onto my feet.
Momma you called it the past,
Yet I see it as my psychological jail sentence
For the mistakes ive made,
My ego was shattered
And dug deep into the roots
That twist along my body

Hey mom,
I wrote you this soft poem
To let you know
That I've never seen hunger
Like this ground
That dispatches of my skin,
This shollow resting ground
Is a lot smaller than my room.
I do not search for apologies or answers
To my last questions,
I found those blowing in the wind
Next to were my last breaths were sung