closed in around me.
 
 Happy Endings
 
 I’d like to give you one.
 
 But I’m not really sure
 
 how this story ends myself.
 
 Being a mother is hard
 
 A lot harder than I imagined.
 
 My baby boy is beautiful.
 
 I sense an Old Soul within him.
 
 But he cries a lot and he
 
 doesn’t really sleep like a
 
 newborn should. No lectures,
 
 okay? I accept my part.
 
 I watch my mom with my son,
 
 loving him, as she must have
 
 loved me. She’s patient when
 
 he cries. She paces him to sleep.
 
 I wish I could be like that. But
 
 I’m only 17.1 feel like life is passing
 
 me by as I stand here on the deck,
 
 listening to him fuss inside.
 
 Sometimes I want to curl up in
 
 a ball and roll away. Sometimes
 
 I just want to die. I only know one
 
 thing that can make me laugh again.
 
 Crank is more than a drug.
 
 It’s a way of life. You can
 
 turn your back. But you can
 
 never really walkaway.
 
 The monster will forever speak