VICIOUS CYCLE
First up and around in the house
Brewing coffee for The Beast
who will turn into my mother after her first cup
She stumbles down the hall
First Bel-Air in hand
I make my breakfast and my lunch
Even at seven, I knew this cycle
would never end
Keeping Mom happy enough to live with
In later years, after I had indulged, passively by
breathing others’ smoke in late-night jazz clubs, and
actively by drinking, snorting, and toking
I decided there was another path
and that this merry-go-round of “self-careless”
must have an exit
Today, smoke-free, drug-free, booze-free
I know she was caught on that carousel from Hell
and that choosing otherwise was possible
© 2010 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Sharp Little Pencil 
uponthewingsofnight
I also had a mother who was The Beast until coffee was ingested. In my teenage years, due to the divorce and having to make ends meet, I really didn’t have any parents in the house at all. My late brother Duane more or less raised me through those awkward years. Nonetheless a poignant poem. Brett
Sharp Little Pencil
Brett, we all have stories to share of regrets… why is it that the most messed-up childhoods often turn out the most prolific artists? Bless Duane for his taking care of you. A good soul. Amy
uponthewingsofnight
I made sure to tell him as often as I could before he passed on that I loved him and appreciated all that he did for me, even though it didn’t seem like I appreciated it at the time.