Addiction Poem about Family

Poem About A Family Devastated By Drug Addiction

This is a tragic tale about a family ravished by drug addiction. Three generations of this family were affected as if the addiction simply changed hands. Please note this story has no antagonist other then the drug. The mother is a victim in the identical way as the children, she is not the "bad guy." The ending is a judgement from the mind of a young child who doesn't have the ability to reason, empathize, or understand. If you lacked those skills as well would you come to the same conclusion?

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Same here. The full poem was actually 4 pages long; a lot of the story was cut out to meet the size limit. The point where the children decided she chose the drugs over them was because of...

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Mommy Loved Her Children

Brian E Pardee © more by Brian E Pardee

Published by Family Friend Poems February 2019 with permission of the Author.

One pill, two pills, three pills, four.
The children are counting Xanax pills they pick off the floor.

Mommy's sister committed suicide in 2009; that's when this all started.
She's in the corner crying like a young girl so incredibly broken-hearted.
Her husband was a heroin addict; he left them a long time ago.
Now depression and anxiety are the only emotions the children show.
She did not start doing drugs for fun; it was only after her reality shattered,
But it all ends the same way; her reason for starting no longer mattered.
She went to her counseling sessions once a week.
She spent most of the session crying too hard to speak.

One pill, two pills, three pills, four.
The children tell the teachers they can't eat because they're poor.

Mommy makes a lot of money, but the money never makes it home.
She has zero friends but 6 drug dealers programmed into her phone.
She'll give them anything for a fix, even if it's her own body.
Parents set the example for the children; it's your life they will copy.
She thought it was just a temporary solution and she'd be able to quit,
But she didn't find a solution, just another problem added to the list.
She wanted to give her children the life she never had.
Instead, she emotionally abandoned them the same way as their dad.

One pill, two pills, three pills, four.
Child Protective Services is at the front door.

Mommy's pushing pill bottles under the couch as the bell continues to ring.
CPS's intentions were good, but in the end it was only more pain they would bring.
What's a child without their parents, a child in a foster home?
Proof of a broken society, children who are forced to go through this alone.
Electricity had been shut off for months; she frantically scrambles for matches to light a candle.
She went through this exact experience when she was a child; it was just too much for her to handle.
She yells toward the front door as she frantically brushes her hair.
Then the door opens and the children learn firsthand that life isn't fair.

One pill, two pills, three pills, four.
Mommy turned to heroin when the pills weren't enough anymore.

Children in foster care, ex-husband still has 4 years left in prison.
Getting her children back should have been her first and only mission,
But it wasn't, and drugs being her only way to cope only compounded the problem.
Once she had the ambition to reach the top; now her habit had her anchored at the bottom.
The children don't remember their dad and their sickly thin mom they can no longer recognize.
One stormy night she ran out of drugs and couldn't stop the tears streaming from her eyes.
Alone in a cold, empty room with no drugs to help her cope,
She took her own life like her sister, simply because they ran out of dope.

One pill, two pills, three pills, four.
Mommy loved her children but she loved her drugs more.



I started writing inside a mental hospital when I was 18 and I guess I never stopped. Most of my writing has been about mental illness but in recent years I branched out into other topics I'm familiar with. If my poetry had one central message or theme it would be understanding. Once a person can understand another's mindset they tend...

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Has this poem touched you? Share your story!
  • Krishna Bansal by Krishna Bansal
  • 3 years ago

Very horrible situation. There's no saving device unless they themselves become aware of their situation and determine to fight this menace.

Unfortunately, very true, they have to really want to change. I lost two very close friends to overdoses in the last year. They were husband and wife. The second passed 10 months after the first and even though he did quit and even spoke at drug awareness events, he had two slip ups and the last cost him his life. He used to explain to me what it was like when he even smelled certain drugs and how it physically started to affect his blood pressure and mind. It's a lifelong battle that requires an enormous amount of strength. Thanks for sharing, Brian

  • Sean Thomas by Sean Thomas
  • 4 years ago

This story is very similar to a person I know except he was addicted to pain killers. His children were grown and didn't live with him. I think the line about her counseling sessions gave a good visual of the pain she felt inside. It's very sad.

Same here. The full poem was actually 4 pages long; a lot of the story was cut out to meet the size limit. The point where the children decided she chose the drugs over them was because of what she did instead of trying to get them back. That was the reason for the conclusion. It wasn't buying or doing drugs, or even drug related.

Around 75% of this story was real. The main difference is the story's mommy was likable and relatable where as the real life one was not. Most adults know these situations are very complex and a person dying in this manner is no proof at all that they loved the drug more than the child. In my opinion, the need for the drug and the love for the child are unrelated. The story, however, is from the child's perspective. I saw these children at least a dozen times and there were two things that stood out: they never spoke and always had an overwhelmed look in their eyes like they were constantly exhausted. Particularly the boy, who was this poem's inspiration.

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