My momma threw me to
the curb like she had a
wanting to stomp me
         American history
                         X
                             style
to much of her wrong type
of love made her corrosive
                                          in my life.
Telling truths of what her definition
of love was, a gunshot bleeding
every time she let of verbal shots.
But I wasn't the fever that collected
within the palpitations of her heart.
That point which was quenched
                    by the point of her rage
every time she was coming
                                      down to earth
like she fell from orbit.
But I wasn't a footstep in her failing,
I was a shadow leaving her behind...
Sometimes you have to leave
                  that which you love..
to make you stronger.
If their there when you return
you know they were willing to change.
                  And if not,
you just visit there quiet place
and tell them you always loved them.

To survive sometimes we wonder alone,
      not to be suffocated by the rot of
       another's love,
she curb stomped my love, but I love her though..