A thousand sad stories

When I see the hashtag 'single mom' on my best girls
Facebook status, I can't see how cute the kid is
but I can see my mother's tired eyes. Her body, aching
constantly, everyday she dies a little more

I think of being 12 and not having transport
for dance classes, or any type of activity for that
matter because my mother was working and working
and working.

I think of her late night shifts at Taco Bell. Her soft green
eyes still cloudy at 7 in the morning on the drive to school.
I think on how bad I want all my best girls to go back
to school. I think of my pretty friend gushing about her
relationship with her father. I think of coming home after
school to 4 empty walls.

I don"t know how women do this to themselves.
when the guy says he doesn't have a rubber,
my mother's aching come to my mind.
the wetness between my legs becomes
less important. I tight them. say no.
its the best birth control.

Society will keep on blessing and praising
the single mother's who had the guts to
do it all. But forgets to praise their children,
those lonely womb citizens that had
to endure the journey too. the half blessed
and half cursed beings who survived it all