Hurt and pain,
she cries in vain,

~

I'm heading out,
To get drunk, I have no doubt,

~

'Where am I going?'
Ma asks me, her tears showing,

~

'Just out for a walk'
I grab my fake ID while I talk.

~

She nods and smiles, for I am her son,
The one she so often refers to as 'hon'

~

I hate these lies, but aren't they better?
I prevent her pillow from getting any wetter,

~

I head out, I swallow my wits,
And then I swear after tonight, I'm calling it quits,

~

But getting drunk every night, I know I'd much rather -
Than stay at home, watch my mom cry, and think about my father.

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