She cries downstairs so Mommy can hear,
Her sobs, she says she has enough.
Dents in her fingers where wedding rings sat...
Shut up, shut UP, you don't have enough.
Not enough money, not enough anything,
With holes in the toes.
A gunshot noise when that door closes, emphasizing anger.
All Mommy's fault, because,
She IS trying.
She tries and she tries, but she says this all the time.
She buys too much, she spends her dough.
It IS Mommy's fault.
Forgiveness grows on trees,
At least here it does.
But I don't know anymore.
I just don't know.