Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Can I love him like I love you? The men now want to be the child. Unfortunatelyourtunitly, the men are use to bring taken care of. It's just not what a real lady wants. I want a grown man..someone that makes sure that I know that they are there. Make sure that I'm okay..that I have what I need. Not that a man doesn't have feelings because we know that they do. But if I'm the weaker vessels why I'm I catering to you. It's your job to be the back bone. Sure there are some people that want to play reverse rolls. I'm not them not do I want to be. People speak about women's rights. I have the right to be respected and speak as I need and have my mans back. Yet, I need my man to be a man. Teach him all of the good that you are. That way I can love him like I love you❤.
Love never fails
wc Jun 21
my mom is lovely
we argue and fight, but she
will always be there
Kim Essary Apr 11
I have done my best as a parent to raise my children right, but the pain I'm enduring right now is a pain I can't speak from my mouth I can only write.
My son has cussed me, stole from me, used me, drained me, tried to destroy my relationship, he has called me while he was hitting the dope ****** he lives with, as I'm begging him to stop while my chest is in so much pain, he continues with no thought at any moment I could die from heart failure,  he has put a knife to his throat in front of me and through it all I find myself hopeless but I still love him hurt for him want to hold him and tell him it's all going to be ok. Because at the end of the day he is my baby boy. He has drained me for every penny, blamed me, told me he was going to **** me, I didn't need to be on this Earth and through it all I still sit here this morning searching online for ways to save him because I know his heart and I feel his pain I'm supposed tO I am his momma . My emotions are torn beyond repair I get angry, mad, sad, hurt and frustrated not knowing how to help him but at the end of it all I cry with hope and prayer that God will bring him peace and comfort within himself  I pray that he remembers how he was raised and humbles himself enough to get the help he needs he has seen and been through more than most grown men could ever imagine and he survived so I am fighting a battle that he feels he has already won because he has survived so much more but still the end of the day the battle he faces is the rest of his life and it's all about a choice a simple seemingly choice.  The choice to continue a road to destruction for the rest of his life or the choice to humble himself and get help , we as mother's have wiped the tears from our children's faces throughout their life. We have cleaned their scrapes and nursed their fevers. We have fed them and clothed them we have spanked and loved we have faught their battles and stood in front of them to protect them from danger and when faced with their addiction we have found that the choice isn't ours anymore and that is the hardest most hurtful things to have to face when we can't take their hand to lead them from danger we can't tell them the fire is hot and will burn you and it's harder than anything in this world because at the end of the day we are still their mother. No excuse, no blaming the drug or drugs, no I'm sorry, it won't happen again, will ever erase the hurt inside my heart. But nothing can take away the blessing God gave to me, the gift of my son. Because when it's all said and done, I'll catch him when he falls and wipe his tears and clean his scrapes, I am forever and always "His Momma"
Addiction is a choice not a way of life. If something consumes or controls you , don't do it, the hurt is far beyond the eyes of an addict .
Kathleen M Mar 2018
So it's been been a few years now
Your memories still scream from underground
Ya mamma tells the world about your sister talking to your ashes
Posts a picture talking your ashes

See me and your sister got something the same
Oh we talk to your ashes
And we cry your name

See I got to know your brothers
and we are the same
We are talking to your ashes
Oh we cry your name

You left to early
gave up on the game
Cut it all too short
I'll never be the same

See I see people like you and I hold on too hard
I'm afraid they'll do like you
And dearly depart
After death
Smriti Ranabhat Nov 2017
I am your poem.

From that mountain hole
Too many pains left
And from the island of the vexation
A little pleasure on the journey twinkle They made  a missiles
I was fabricated just below your heart
And I am the part of it

Just by planting a tree farm
Trouble dirts your hands
I was penned from composition of roughness
And I am the stanzza of it

Thunder thrown out of your eyes
They are more expensive than pearls
Drinking  nano water
I was  masterminded
And I am the Masterpiece of it

The debt too scared by itself
Searching for fertilizer tissue
Selling the blood of your own
I was painted from the words of penalty
And I am the same book of it

Momma ! I'm not a poetess
I am your poetry ....
I am the product of plenty of sufferings ,and vexation that momma suffers
I am her words falling and rolling in the real life   ,pattern of her language
And I am her whole book
trashcanpoetry Jun 2017
that was a hard goodbye...
you grabbed my hand so tight
exactly like the first time
i cried about your cancer

cancer is a bad word
revolving around a cynical industry
& plagued with fear and loss
.. i hate that word

you made that word beautiful somehow
you made that word whimper
with the light from your
nicotine stained smile
you made cancer your *****

you told me not be dismal because
"I"ll be here tomorrow"
you told me not to cry because
"We have things to get done"

i still have things to get done
and so do you
i loathe that you aren't here to do them
for my momma, a beautiful soul.
Maple Mathers May 2016
I've now coined the diagnosis "Portable Hoarder" -  Carrying my life in bags and duffles, pockets and sleeves.

Accumulating more baggage than would fit in a **** terminal.

But now, I am home. Me, and my ***** laundry. And I don't fit anymore. Crammed amidst my past. Falling out the door; Spilling across my floor.

Me, myself, and Marshall.

I'm cleaning out my closet.
Everything I know I learned from Eminem.

Nobody wanted me till puberty reinvented my physicality. From peasant to princess - my life spun 180. Grade school, a prison; high school; a kingdom. And that's fun. But.

What's the lesson here?

I'm nothing to this world but my looks.
Tis now I know
Tis now I can tell
Thinking all in life will glow
Everyday we gnawed in pain
Worry Not She Would Return

Tell Momma life been hard
If ever there was a ray of sunshine
Momma left,
In the land she bore me into
Her Return Unknown

Oloruku, the days of solitude,
the pregnant sky had to give
Each day repeating itself to torment
Sunday, the day not to forget
She Would Return You Said, To The Tent

The child is now a man
Without you there's profusion of sorrow
Though I write, momma i don't know
that which took you away, no return momma
Remember, Remember You Were Once Human.
No matter how Long.. They're still with us.. Rest in Peace Ma...
Ceridwyn Carlton Feb 2016
Momma notice me.
Momma can’t you see
there are tears in my eyes,
and scars on my thighs.
You see the blood
and you know it’s not mud
Momma help me
I’m all ******
I’m going to die
Don’t deny,
you know why
look in my bed
I’m already dead.
And you didn’t even say goodbye
Next page