At the bottom of a bottle

Where are all the answers not inside her lies.
Just a bit of poison to hide the taste.
We walk on eggshells so brittle, ever so fraile.
Our bodies another common work of art.
Our thoughts escape on ivory paper like children running to recess.
My crayola crayon feelings wash out like grass stained knees.
Where can I hide?
Where is mother?
At the bottom of a bottle of Jack.

Where are the answers that could tell me why?
Just another child hiding behind river's eyes.
Prison is the answer handcuffs and barflies.
Just another child let to face is nightmares alone at night.
Free me from the anger free me from the shame.
These pills only can take me so high.
Can't find the guidelines like a blurry vision broken nose.
Where is mother?
At the bottom of a bottle of Jack.

Pin point my questions push them deep inside.
Behind the rib cage close to the heart.
My veins run cold like Chicago southside winters.
Hiding in the shadows, scurrying for food.
Where is mother?
At the bottom of a bottle of Jack.