The yelling. Getting on each others nerves everyday, everynight. 11 years. I had already lost one child to grandparents in a horrible custody ordeal, I was a little more prepared when I knew I had to stop the madness in a realtionship that lasted or would of ended in my last breath. I had to go, and go I did.

Word of mouth sunk me to the bottom, blues I had a decade before,  were bluer than ever and facing a most certian losing battle. But I had more backbone these days, and I wasnt so worried about where my childern were, or who was watching them. I knew I couldnt ever come back, at one path stood freedom with regret, or chains made to fit this now old maid. 

Reflecting on my lone desiscion, battered hair, like my life, shunned was I. I couldnt give up on my son. still a baby, But not being with your children makes you absoluely petrified of there surroundings. whos feeding them, disiplinging them, teaching them. 

I failed at freedom. Someone like me would. But I missed my baby, even though at times I miss out on the fun. 
TLD

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