After 8 hours of prison I endure daily,
I enter the atmosphere of depression.
My father with the tear soaked pillow,
And my mother pale with the bitter pill.
Packing her integrity into a tiny suitcase,
Her decision, a pariah to our family,
But she wishes for her life to be gay.
All he wants is for her to stay,
He lifts the bottle to his chew-coated lip,
His vision blurred, words slurred--he can clearly see why she left.
She dwells upon her defective youth,
She wouldn’t long for us to live out her legacy,
Filled with booze and beliefs,
But her ambition to leave is our abomination.
Her wings were the chains wrapped around our ankles,
Condemning us to a life of child support and an unpleasant upbringing,
But as my family falls through my hands like sand,
I reflect on my arguable adolescence.
My father was the brimming cup of devotion,
And my mother was a cactus submerged in a swamp.
As she reached for a breath of freedom,
It filled her lungs with exemption and her mind with faith.
She may be able to escape her judgement,
But we will forever be drowning in divorce.