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.