Getting Up from my isolation,
Letting up from my aggravation.
Dealing with the whiplash of the horrific words that you have carved into the back of my hand in hopes I would never move on.

Setting up for the reality that you have made so ******* hard to face.
The same smoke still burning my lungs making my lungs cave in lighting a fire that never dies.

Resting at the end, dealing with  yet another day of your success.
How does one.
Mother remember me