Make Your Mama Cry

Are you seeing things?

When she’s wringing your wrist, saying “Please…”

Are you seeing things?

In an ’88 Civic’s backseat.

One hand on your Persuader,

The other on a fraying cable,

Pulling tighter like you might

Never want to be free.

Are you seeing things?

Crying on the shower floor

While she’s banging on the walls,

Are you seeing things?

When cameras start rolling,

Where rivers of crimson are flowing.

Is this what you mean,

When you say you’re doing alright?

Is this how you bring

Some peace, some release to your life?

Are you playing games?

You don’t bottle your feelings,

You swallow them whole.

You give them a home,

And you never let go.

Are you seeing things?

Roll your eyes back to Duplessis Street,

Where colorful children had just jellybeans to eat

And trickles of blood criss-crossed like

Capillaries in a dragon’s bloodshot eye.

So now you’re telling me you’ve come this far,

Just to toss up your cards and watch them fall?

You must be seeing things,

You’re playing games.

And even at its best, the only prize

Is a sacrifice.

Just to make your mama cry.

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