Bitter Sweet Mother

Pacing on sore, cut skin of feet,
With every step I trespass,
Here amongst the enemy layers,
Trapped in this small prison.

Tortured by the pain of betrayal,
Enraged at the abandonment,
Sick with hate for her choices,
Now awaiting the unknown.

Pondering with every second,
While sipping on red sanity,
Disbelief of our position,
Yet attempting to survive.

Ruined by sheer desperation,
Lacking the hope of new,
Continuing blindly through,
Grasping every bit of strength.