Mother's Wine

November 25, 2010
There are those days,
I count my prayers.
And whenever I feel like no one cares,
you're there to assure me it's true.
Your hand holds tight to a cool glass of wine,
lips hold true to a fine line,
how could I ever rely on you?
You try to pretend that you're my only anchor,
but there's nothing to keep me here.
I'm ready to let this ship set sail,
though you tell me that I can only fail.

The world is an ocean,
but you want to keep me on shore.
I pray and I hope,
but I can't take it anymore.
There is something wrong with your mind.
I swear you must be in denial or just blind,
if you think the way you run my life,
is perfectly fine.

Oh mother, just go sip your wine.

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