An Empty Chair

You're supposed to be there.
What are you to me?
Well, all I see is you walking away...
So,
I guess you are a back...
Better yet you are a back of a hand to me.
The back of the hand of a woman who abuses not only Cigarettes, and Alcohol.
But,
Her own children.
I sit across to where you are supposed to be,
You and me sitting in a Therapist's office.
Across form me?
An Empty Chair
Where you need to be,
Where you need to stay,
And help our daughter see why you do all the things you do.
You used to be the very pit of my existance..
But now,
You are the very core of my problems,
A nail in my side,
A booming gnawing noise in my sleep.
This is my reality.
I'm just a girl...
You?
You are my shadow,
Constantly there.
Constantly eating away at my being.
If you aren't happy...
I can never be.
So,
This is my ode to be..
I will make your'e life a living hell
So long as you don't go away...