> 10-13-2020 <
> Loosely Based On: DNA by Lia Marie Johnson <
I wonder sometimes if it was all worth it.
If loving the man who chose to use his fists over his words more than your own child made you happy.
I get why you did it - i do.
I've never been enough for you - but let's be honest here mom - neither was he...or the Meth...or the Oxycodone.
It's seems to run in our blood to always need more - to not be satisfied until we're laying in the middle of the storm as it whips us with all it has.
Chaos is a choice that we choose to make.
I just wish you had chosen to care more about your baby girl than the storm.
Maybe that way she wouldn't of had to watch you die. Maybe she wouldn't blame herself.
Maybe you could still be here for them as they contemplate joining you every fucking day.....As they now scream and cry about missing their own version of the storm when something reminds them of how they'll never feel that kind of peace again.
But that's all in the past now. It still haunts them. It always will.
So I ask you mom - Was it worth it? Was giving your baby girl a storm of her own only to take it away 13 short years later fucking worth it to you?
YOU ARE READING
The Existence of a Disaster
PoetryA collection of Poems, Random Writing, Rants and Creative Writing Pieces. ⚠️ Warning ⚠️ READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED Please see "Trigger Warnings" before reading as this book is extremely graphic.
