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  • Category: Community Poetry
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Haze

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She stands there like a queen-

Her wealth shining around her neck and wrist

She owns me.

Her fingers yellow from cigarettes

And her lips stained from the wine.

Her eyes hang low and her hair a mess.

Bloodshot tears run down her face.

Music in blast through her ears and thoughts begin to race.

She's lost in the haze-

Life. Loss.

She speaks to empty space-

She feels as though she is left with nothing.

-Deprived as she sits in her fame and fortune. 

Luxuries come like water; she doesn't seem to notice.

Her screams show within in her eyes.

She doesn't care for me-

For anyone.

She trips up the stairs and busts her lip.

Self pity - she downs the bottle. 

She is my mother.


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