My mama sings me to sleep in this terrible storm,
And I try not to sleep because I know what awaits her when she leaves,
But her voice, so soothing, and her hands, so warm,
Lulls me to the subconscious.
I wake up to the sound of bottles shattering,
And I throw off my blanket rag and run to the mud,
And there she lay bloody and crying,
Her mind not able to process what she’s done.
“Mama!” I embrace my mother and catch her tears mixed with the rain,
The man of her nightmares lay dead at her feet,
The landlord crept into her bed every night to kill her off slowly,
But he had gone too far tonight and brought out her brave demons.
She pulls her baby towards her heart and wails,
“The devil’s dead, Mary! The devil’s dead!” she screams to me,
“I know Mama, I know!” we laugh maniacally through our tears,
Singing our fears and screaming our joys.
The storm is cleared and we grabbed our cases,
We dragged our miserable happy bodies through the deserted roads,
“What made you kill the man, Mama?”
“He was going to take you to hell too, Mary.”