I missed your birthday a couple of years back.

I was locked up, sorry about that.

See I got to running with a rougher crowd

They drank too much and partied too loud.

I knew they were bad, but it was so much fun

I knew my world was about to come undone.

I left you with your Grandma Jones

She took you in and gave you a home.

I couldn’t destroy myself while keeping you

I mourned your loss, but got your name tattooed

on my forearm where I see it every day.

I missed you but I had to stay away.

I hope someday you might miss me as well

while I sit here 5-10 in a 4 by 6 cell

I’m sorry I missed your birthday a couple months back

But I was locked up, sorry about that.

This is an imagining of why someone might leave their child behind for the sake of self-destruction. This is not based on fact or any person I’ve known living or dead.