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.