Hush-a, hush-a, my sweet angel. It’s okay baby, Mama’s got you.
PTSD triggered, I’m leaving him. How could he do that? I thought I could forgive him, but I can’t. It’s okay baby, I’ve got you.
I’m homeless, they kicked me out. Please don’t rip me off. I can’t pay rent. I can’t afford groceries. Please don’t kick me out too. It’s okay baby, I’ve got you.
I need some where to stay, take care of me. I’m broken, please fix it. Eating disorder, bi polar, she’s just a kid. It’s okay baby, I’ve got you.
He’s abusive, I can’t leave him. He needs help, we need help. It’s okay baby, I’ve got you.
Can I borrow money? Can I talk to you? Please help me. Where are you? Why aren’t you answering? You’ll never guess what happened…
My plate is full, my belly is bloated. My life is stretched like an elastic band ready to snap, I patch the tears. I see the splits forming as the band stretches thinner. I need you, please call me.
You’re my rock, my best friend. Where would I be without you? Patch the tears, glue the splits. Yes baby, I’ve still got you.