there goes your mother and her plague
what a terrible display
of a charcoaled tongue
that wouldn t lend a hand
though this dead was a thoughtless act
with alcohol intact
quietly she seeks the day to pass
with those stitches that you clean
you hold your flag of your doleful plea
now there s nothing left to recall
a fruitless title bestowed
amongst someone you could never know
in this plight of this dismay
this thickness of your plague
she s a realm that s lost her way