Where i go she does not follow,
she sits on the couch full of sorrow.
with a needle aimed at her wrist,
she sits and sits and sits and sits.
making sure no one disturbs her,
she beats them until they're black and blue.
broken ribs and arms, oh the pain.
but from this she does not gain.
people, strangers, enter our home,
they take us away,
they leave her alone.
"mom!" i scream but my voice is hollow,
for where i go she does not follow.