For 10 years she was called Mommy
Mommy I want,
Mommy I need,
Mommy please help me see.
This world was so big but her light was my sun
I needed it to grow
She planted seeds in my heart hoping love is all I would ever know
For 10 years she was my gravity, my mommy don't go.
Mom take me here,
Mom I really don’t care,
Mom, I can see on my own.
I became too cool for her tight hugs but no matter how I shoved she wouldn’t let go.
Her mom died and it was the first time I saw her cry
Of course I didn’t understand because I still had my mom’s hand.
She had dimmed but I could still see
the bottles of wine on the nights she didn’t have her mom’s light
I called her Momster because I was told that’s what lives in the dark.
I tried to become her gravity; I tried to pull her back to me.
I brought flashlights and bibles waiting for her sunrise.
The ICU lights are the only thing glowing.
There’s dark charcoal pumping through her and I wonder if that’s the color of her soul.
Sparks are flying, burning out my only hope.
I’m told the medicine will fix her, but my sun still won’t shine.
My flashlight batteries are done and my Bible no longer has solutions.
Momster yells,
Momster has left me here alone.
December 31st and the sun sets refusing rise for a new year
All the light was drained out of her and replace with alcohol and pills
She left not realizing I still needed that light to grow.
She left my life in the dark saying
Mommy I want you,
Mommy I need you,
Mommy I can’t see why you had to go.