Not Enough

Fortune teller

Some days my anxiety races faster
Than my heart when I sprint the mile
Confused and anxious as to what may happen next
Because living with an alcoholic
Is like living in a war zone
Anywhere you step
Any move you make
Could set off a land mine of anger and rage
Maybe even spitefulness
Or whatever vodka full emotion may be set off
You learn to tip toe
Not only watching what you say
But also different movements
Don't raise your eyebrows
For something as simple as that could set off ticking time bomb that is himself
Momma dear says things are going to get better
Dubious, I am.
Better
More like a distant dream
That's just too far to grasp
But it's not too far
Mommas just too scared to fully extend her arms
And reach for the peace of mind
She stays,
She says it's for me
And that may be
But we all know that she doesn't want to retreat
Back to working double shifts
Just to make it by
Chad
That's what we shall call him
For the tittle "step father"
Is one that is forever too good for him
Belittled
I don't quite understand how momma dear puts up with it
All the names
The guilt trips
The awful endless degrading
But yet she stays
I never quite know what's going to happen
But while living with an alcoholic
You learned to become a Fortune teller
You know,
One of those weird ladies who's try's their best
To predict the future.
And all though sometimes they may be right
But somethings are bound to be right
When you shoot a million different possibilities into the sky
See that's just what it is
Anxiety.
Constantly thinking of all the terrible if's, and's, and but's
Almost as a way to prepare yourself
For what could "possibly" happen
But along with these thought
Comes the endless sleepless nights
Where all you want to do is cry
And run away
But you don't
Because there could be a really bad man lurking about
So instead
You lay in your bed
And try to escape your own head
Unable to drift asleep
Another thing that comes with anxiety
Is the endless panic attacks
Sometime nothing even set it off
It just kind of happens
The shaking
The dizziness
And sometimes even the puking
This happens a lot.
Growing to hate the taste of most foods
Because how can you like a food
When it's came back up
Momma dear must deal with this too
Just hiding it from me
Like she does all her emotions
Most the time anyways
Sometimes at night, when she thinks no ones awake
I hear her faint cry
And I too cry
Because although momma dear and I
May have struggled
And things may not be perfect between us
It breaks my heart to see her cry