The Crippled Woman

You're half the woman that your momma is

Bullshit to a man, poor example for your

You awake to the serious dysfunction that harbors your life

Spending the majority of your essence misleading what's right

I extended my hands but you bit off my fingers

That pain that’s deep in you was rest on me and lingers

I was your lover, your friend, the man of your life

I was everyone you wanted dueling with your life

Is it Münchausen syndrome or Münchausen by proxy?

My attempts to break your cycle were broken when you mocked me

Yet in still I reach out to talk to your heart hug your soul

The words you speak and the look in your eyes

They’re tattered, worn and old

We had a bond being bred from abusive childhoods

You struggled to escape it but I buried mine for the good

I tried to lead you from the air but you refused to be lead

I tried to clear your mind but you blocked me from your head

Where the death or your spiritual life laid

Where the death of your mental stability dissipated

Vanity became the focal point of your survival

Love ultimately became your rival

Chaos was the comfort that kept your days alive

The only euphoria was disguised in the proof of alcoholic vises

You became a whore not selling your ass for the payment of a dead fuck

But for the empty attention that you recycled to create a jealous tirade

Once in your somber and sober state you realize yourself you played

Now you scrape the traces of dried tears from your mascara scarred cheeks

In the crest of the morning you still felt weak

Sun shining high over the horizon yet you stay hidden under the covers with black curtains

You’re no one to yourself but an empty vessel struggling to find footing on flat ground

Unable to see the your plight through your delusion

Forcing yourself to ignore the burning path of damnation that you keep choosing

It’s only you that you’re losing and your children you demand follow you

Adopting your misgivings and mental corruption like abandon babies

Killing their dreams and robbing their childhood maybes

Caught in your crossfire or leaning on momma and recognizing momma is bye bye

Momma’s heart is dying along with her body

Momma’s not living her childhood fantasy

She can’t run fast enough from the forced penetration

Her adolescent memories have her paranoid and misplacing

Misplacing the balance of her harmony and replacing it with constant dreams of misery