The Pain Of A Mother

Mama comes home again in a bad mood

Hope she's not belligerent and brought home food

She cuts to the kitchen and fetches her wine

I say, "Mom, this ain't living!" and she starts to cry

Tilting the bottle one more time

Red and dry, a tissue for her eyes

Her cheeks flush from the shame she feels inside

And a pain that won't subside

I wish she'd look at me

Or at least see what she's doing to me, to us

Her gaze is impressed upon the ceiling

A mess, crazed and stressed

Try your best and still end up with less

"Mom, you need to rest."

No words are needed in a moment so bleak

No sound more profound than her sobbing

But this picture says enough

An image that captures her silent screams

It's hard not to see the art in such a scene

Like a painting, the details of her heart are easily seen