Painted Black Roses

To whom it may concern

and all of those who hear me

 I’ll tell you now of a woman whose too scared to be lonely. 

Married six times, guess she couldn’t read between the lies. 

This one that one until the final stroke 

until her daughters watch so much that they too become broke. 

Watched their mother manipulate, not try. 

Made them so miserable in adolescence that as adults they want to die. 

The damage that she felt had worth spilled onto the children she had birthed, 

raising them to believe no man would know their worth. 

Painted black roses on the ceiling above her bed. 

One for each of the lies she told and one for each messed up head. 

Wallows in her self pity, plays the victim to everyone in the city. 

Destroys everyone she touches, just pray you outrun her clutches. 

Painted black roses with withered brown pedals. 

For being her kids alone, me and my sisters deserve medals. 

She doesn’t care about the havoc that she wreaks, 
just about having enough money to buy more speed. 

Three daughter, five grandkids and none of which she cares for. 

She’ll manipulate though, make you believe she loves nothing more. 

Don’t feed into that though, I promise its all lies. 

She only has love for us under a watchful eye. 

Painted black roses up above her head, 

I wonder how she sleeps at night knowing her name brings so much dread.