Momma

Momma dear momma please open the door,
what did that man mean when he called you bag whore,
and that thing that you pulled straight from your arm,
I learned in school that it could do much harm,
what are you doing I cant hear a sound,
was that your body I just heard hit the ground,
momma please momma just hold me real close,
and tell me how much that you love me the most,
momma dear momma I cant hear you breathe,
and you made me a promise that you would never leave,
now we are separated by more than this door,
you cant read me stories or sing me to sleep anymore,
momma tell me your alright wipe away my falling tears,
who's going to know all my secrets, dreams and my fears,
momma please momma just let me come in,
and I promise never to let you put that in your arm ever again.

I was clean for almost 4 years and before Christmas this year I relapsed and almost killed myself by doing it.
This poem has been going through my mind for about a month before I jotted it down, it seems to have some type of power about it that gives me a sense of will power not to use.