Array ( [sid] => 161530 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => Momma [time] => 2010-08-01 02:12:42 [hometext] => [bodytext] => Crawling back on dirtied knees
Momma stooped down low
And picked him back up
Always, always took him back

I wish I never heard the stories
The old ladies told on the porch
Of the horrible things
She shooed away with the tears

When she wiped off his dirty knees
Never asking where he got them
I watched it swirl down the drain
But the grime never quite disappeared

I watched it grow
The lake of filth that never left
Always, always on my mind
Why couldn’t Momma see it?

I did, I told him to answer for it
Answer the prayers he sent to her
When surely those knees stumbled home
I told him Momma can’t absolve you

Washed away clean, second chance
Don’t keep wasting them away
But he knows, I know
Momma will never run of out them

I walked out, Momma left behind
He left disgraced, as should be
Made a home for myself, populated it
And surely it was me
Who came home with dirty knees [comments] => 3 [counter] => 200 [topic] => 31 [informant] => Chamaron [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => StoryPoetry ) Your Poetry Dot Com - Momma


Momma
Date: Sunday, 1st August 2010 @ 02:12:42 AM AEST
Topic: Sad Poetry

Contributed By: Chamaron
Crawling back on dirtied knees
Momma stooped down low
And picked him back up
Always, always took him back

I wish I never heard the stories
The old ladies told on the porch
Of the horrible things
She shooed away with the tears

When she wiped off his dirty knees
Never asking where he got them
I watched it swirl down the drain
But the grime never quite disappeared

I watched it grow
The lake of filth that never left
Always, always on my mind
Why couldn’t Momma see it?

I did, I told him to answer for it
Answer the prayers he sent to her
When surely those knees stumbled home
I told him Momma can’t absolve you

Washed away clean, second chance
Don’t keep wasting them away
But he knows, I know
Momma will never run of out them

I walked out, Momma left behind
He left disgraced, as should be
Made a home for myself, populated it
And surely it was me
Who came home with dirty knees

This poem is Copyright © Chamaron


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