At night my sister and I Stared at those plastic stars That have been plastered on our ceiling Since we were young Wishing that the warmth of our love Was enough And she didn't have to look for more In the wine glasses filled to the brim Coming home late at night Screaming knives into my heart Taring me down into the little sparkle She claimed to see in her eye But now I just wasn't as bright They say drunk words Are sober thoughts So maybe that's why it hurts so bad Or maybe its because Your parents are supposed to love you And when they don't Can anyone really?
This is a poem about my experience with my mom's alcoholism.