Holding this crumpled picture between my two thumbs, seeing your beautiful smile, your white lace gloves.

Picture Perfect Memory.

Fifteen years later, and things aren't so great, a reflection in the mirror flows great tears of hate.

Sheer unhappiness with what you've become, blaming your children for what you have done.

Angry words I HATE YOU only add to the madness, Friday night, 11:30, and I don't know where my dad is.

Jump into my sea of tears, open your mouth and drink in my fears.

Act like a mother, for once, I beg you, eat something please, I wish I could save you.

You're wasting away, but please let me eat, don't make me suffer for your self-defeat.

I miss that smile, the one from the photo, I no longer have that angel to go to.

I ripped up your picture in a fit of rage, my precious keepsake of you crumbling from age.

We may have grown apart from pain and misery, but I swear that you will always be beautiful... if not to others, at least to me.