the room was cold
life seemed dim
as the walls began to fold in

he shot up in the bathroom
while she sat expressionless
taken aback by the mankind's darkest hour,
Housewives of New Jersey,
the reason behind her scour

her girl fuming in her room
curious to why her mother allowed for this
the mother's sins had her entombed

the man arose from his bender
weathering the storm he chose to enter
the words he screamed
the insults that spewed
the wife's daughter would always remember
and she would always brood

the fights
the backlash of his temper
made the mother decide to whimper
it wasn't abuse
it was only screaming,
on both ends,
leaving the air toxic.

the wife's daughter had seen enough
if only she was old enough
to leave the hell hole
she was trapped in
waiting to take out that piece of shrapnel
embedded deep within her heart
simply enough
it was tearing her apart.

the drug addled husband of her mother
smeared dirt upon her father
he said the worst he could've ever thought of,
out of jealousy,
of the mother's dead love.

if only the daughter could leave
she would run to the ends of the earth
to travel across borders
to unearth intellectual opulence.

but the daughter is stuck,
trapped between the mistakes and weakness alike
of her mother's choices.

fastened into cement shoes
freighted down,
into the icey trenches,
where her own personal hell has frozen over.

don't worry daughter for you were me
a mirror of self insecurities,
incapable to reform your own life
saddled by the sins of your mother.

soon you will be unfettered
when you hit that magic eighteen
no longer will you be tethered,
just as I did,
you will be free.