My kids don't need their food that bad, for what they get, they should be glad. Need some shoes, I'll only sigh, I need my money for gettin' high. You think it's easy for me to budget after distributing my money to the street? Then have something left to bring home, so that I can buy some food and meat? But, I return to a house all full of gloom, and try to keep these ungrateful ass kids, out of my room, I don't know why they refuse to see, that this is my life, and it's all about ME. I'm dyin' here, doin' the best I can, and tryin' not to smoke up, what's left for my man, thinkin' of ways to get rid, of each and everyone of these, ungrateful ass kids. Copyright 1998, Erica Hughes (To View More Of My Poetry, E-mail me for information)
Reason for writing:
Just Trying To Understand The "Mothers" Who Abuse Drugs. . .
NOT to justify their behaviour but to realize their mindsets. . .Read Comments.
Birth sign: Libra
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