sweet little princess, why do you cry? is it because you watch helplessly as mommy faces another night alone with her bible in one hand and her cigarette in the other. Mommy says that these taste just like peaches, well she must have forgotten that those very same sticks that she is paying an arm and leg for will eventually literally cost her just that an arm and a leg for when the devil comes for payment he makes sure to get his just dues. While she sits puffing away her youth one has to wonder if the lost look in her eye is of nostalgic memories or forgotten dreams?

"Do not follow in my steps darling", mommy would always say as she would enhale a long drag, only to exhale with a deep cough. As I would sit there watching I could have sworn that I had seen her life slowly drain right before my eyes. Mommy has always said how she did not want for us to follow in her footsteps every morning smiling, night praying. Praying that the evils of the world do not consume her children's souls as they had hers. Praying that her daughters stay innocent and pure. Praying that all of her flaws and bad choices are not passed to the ones whom she love the most, but dear sweet, mother, did you not hear of the old saying that "we become that which we fear the most?". 

Years of enhaling nothing but ash and death the youngest became the exact copy of mommy and daddy, smoking on cancer sticks causing a ruckus, and letting the moonlight bring her home. Years of having her sanity put into question. Curling up in the corner facing battles with iron fists, lonely tears that could have filled oceans, silent screams and so many battles with one's inner demons that left scars both psychological, physical, and all over the one place that is meant to be her sanctuary, there is no wonder as to how come she spends another evening with the wine bottle, her tears, and an old friend which she had not seen in quite some time. All while she waits for death in her silk robe and succubus lips.

so dear sweet little princess, do not cry for it is not your fault that the wine bottle is more tantalizing than a simple walk outside, besides these grapes taste better than the bitter liquid that you are used to. It is not your fault that your youngest sibling is smoking and partying her youth away trying to silence her memories and fill her hole, for mommy has birthed addicts.