Written by, Amy K.
Chaos crowned my childhood years,
a crown of grief, a flood of tears.
Mum was gone before I knew
how fragile love, how brief, how true.
At eight, the world was cracked and cold,
foster hands, but none to hold.
Brother lost to darker fires,
needles, powders, failed desires.
I found my comfort in the haze,
at twelve years old, those smoky days.
Dizzy first, yet I returned—
a gentler burn than life had burned.
Seasons passed, the habit grew,
a daily cloud, my skyless view.
Not for laughter, not for play—
but just to make it through the day.
Now laundry towers, dishes wait,
three small souls, their futures fate.
Lunchboxes packed with shaking hands,
while I am trapped in sinking sands.
The smoke that once could soothe my pain
has bound me fast, a rusted chain.
I long to breathe, to stand, be free,
to find the woman lost in me.
And deep inside, a voice still calls,
beyond these weary, smoky walls.
A spark survives, it will not die—
a seed of hope, a clearer sky.
One day I’ll break these binding ties,
lift my head and meet sunrise.
My children’s laughter guiding me,
toward the life I’m meant to see.
