Black

Day 10

Prompt: Black

Old rags also work as cotton,
When they are not on our back,
Smiling widely at the harsh winter cold
Blowing air into mother's open wounds,
Shouting accusations angrily
' why'd you let her close to the bottle again'
Oh you fail to understand,
That mother's legs are only missing chunks of skin,
Not the ability to walk
At times she is stronger than my compassion,
And I'll only regret not trying
After she stumbles back here,
Reeking of all the men she outcompetes in drinking their own money
You know,
Mother is a beauty,
Missing only a few teeth
And the will to bath in anything none alcoholic,
More frequently
Crumpled photographs in tins
Weigh more
Than mother's body on a wheelbarrow
On Mondays
Stumbling over lyrics
Of women holding the knife at it's sharpest,
As people gawp, tirelessly
On the dirty road
With broken dreams as tar

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