The Forbidden Fruit

O “Mercy Mercy me” I was a teenage girl when I born you into this evil, crooked world. I had no idea my life was going to be all shook up, by a ball of confusion. I worshipped chaos and the wild darkness of addiction and lust, that thrust me to dust, since you were five years old.

I never meant to cause you so much pain and sorrow, O sweet child of mine. My heart is falling apart inside of my soul, as I write these words of forgiveness. My eyes are consumed with running tears, as I break from the past, to speak to your heart. I wish I could take the pain and shut it up, but I can’t.

As I look back on the anger at the sound of madness, I see portraits of you, clouded with slow burning sadness. I savage my grace, on the road of perdition, looking for a hot pursuit of women and crack cocaine deep and wide as the earth. This deadly affliction of mine had me suffering for a number of years, on broken flowers. I was falling on black days, of dark times, that kept me bound by sin, that caused me to become comfortably numb. Hope was a dangerous thing for a woman like me to have, because I was nothing but an empty shell.

I couldn’t break the grip of shame, while I suffered extreme embarrassment, because my brain was hanging upside down inside my head. I was having a blast of frustration from a bad habit that left us on skid row. My lack of success left you disappointed and increasingly broken-hearted. Every seed I planted never grew, because a hard addiction crippled the ground. All I could do is cry a river of tears.

For a long time you wandered in fear, watching me slowly disappear, into a war zone. I was ambushed by an entourage of artillery, while my booby-trapped emotions exploded in tiny bits of pain. I made a huge breach of hurt in the spirit of your fragile heart. I wanted so desperately to break off this meaningless life I was living. I had to charge off as a bad case of hopelessness.

My life was completely destroyed by hostility, and I was badly disfigured by an acid rain of feelings. My fantasies strangled the ring of encirclement, until I was enveloped in blankets of disgust. My bones were laid dead, on a killing field of massive distress. My pleasure overwatched my excessive over indulgence, until I was taken captive by abuse. My thoughts patrolled the bizarre rages that kept me bound and secluded from you.

Here I am standing at the entrance of your heart, pleading with tears as big as an apple. Let me lead you through the waters of love that pass the conception of a dead mother’s love for her one and only child. I had suffered a great deal of hurt under the supervision of lust and addiction, and yet instead of getting better, I grew worst, lying on a bed of spiritual death.

Son you are the words of unconditional love with a great expression of inspiration. A thousand words wouldn’t be enough to describe the words of us. Your music is my unspoken words of wisdom, that’s why we belong to the words we write. It’s like a mother’s love on music row.

Listen to the words of this book to heal your wounded pain. My writing is a piece of what you need. My creative captivity will burn your soul, while your heart is pumping to a brand new beat. Your music, harmony, and rhythm makes my book dance to four simple words, while our duet hits me like a rock.

I’m so sorry for the long history of grief I bestowed upon of you. Will you find it in your heart to forgive me? I will never ever break your heart again. I love you from the highest mountain, my darling handsome son. Thank you for inspiring me to write a book.