I wrote this poem after reading about Green Day’s bass player and his birth mothers battle with heroin. He never met her until shortly before she died.
My mother died there on the floor
And we met just the day before.
Had we loved, would I have known
I had her there for all my own.
But time befalls the strongest clown
And burns their houses to the ground
Left alone, nothing more to be
Questioned the blood inside of me
That sanguine mass, the life giving force
It guides me reckless through my course
And shapes me strong and weak each day
And sends me moaning on my way
The needles prick brought her more joy
Than the newfound voice of her baby boy
Then all was lost to time and toil
To lovers claimed by my turmoil.
My life became a quest of proof
To see myself became aloof
Until the day forever more
That I saw her lying on the floor.