Always Sorry

Screaming so loud my voice breaks,
only the fragile hear me,
and they’ll be the next to break.
Mommy’s sick
and sorry
and so sick
of being sorry
that anything to numb
the rage seems a proper penalty,
a gift to give you peace.
Smacking my face,
alcohol craze,
cigarettes with the fan on high.
To pay with my life
would ruin you;
I might ruin you,
two, too,
three, breathe,
four, oxygen release,
five, pins and needles,
six, senses awake,
seven, aware,
eight, ride the guilt wave,
nine, you’re fine,
ten, for now,
but over time?
Mommy’s sick
of explaining the pain,
and sorry
and so sick
of being sorry.
Bundled tight
in a blanket of worry,
hush now, dears,
Mommy’s always sorry.

Photo Credit: MishovskiPhotography via Compfight cc