Through the Fog, I Found A Mother

 A young Heroin Girl, I was born to.

She chose drugs over the child she gave birth to.

Doing her body wrong – Just to get right.

Never worrying about the son who cries himself to sleep at night.

Name me heroin and then she might like me,

Put me into a needle then she may write me.

But leave me in my body and she forgets she gave life to me.

When you’re Mad-Don’t look to me to make you glad.

Just leave me alone and go get your bag.

It’s the same thing, every year and everyday…..

Sometimes I wish my dad was gay and then I would have two dads and not a mom who ran away.

I have looked so long for a mother without needles in her arm.

Then I realized I had one all along.

I call her grandma – you’ve waited your whole life for your daughter to turn hers around.

Don’t worry your grandson won’t let you down.

I know round one was no fun for grandma or for you.

But grandma I swear you’ll be proud of round two.

                                                                -Client of McAlister Institute-