In remembrance of my beautiful mother. I love you.

Golden Glued.

There were much simpler days, where I felt no heart ache.

When my mother would hold me and scold me.

A slap on the wrist that I miss.

Now I only count time by the anniversary of your death,

and I only measure pain by the amount of trips I take to your grave.

I keep hoping and dreaming that I'll see her, to this day. Like she'll see the child that I birth, like she'll wipe the tears from my face,
Like I may still have a chance at a normal life.

Presuming that I can still hold her tender slender hand. Only to wake up to the fog of reality and all the pain I see. The pain I see. I only see pain.
My wretched soul retains nothing but the coldness of your body, sitting on a coffin shelf.

Your mouth glued shut, your skin awful and gold.

Images that repeat in my battered brain.

I'll pour them down the drain.