Article written by Likeleli M. Monyamane.

She lay in her vomit – Again

A casualty of Thirsty Thursday

Sign on the door read – no admittance for under 23

But her 8 year-old is allowed in

So that she can drag her home – Again

Her heavy drunken body

Looks like its ready to crush her fragile frame

And break it into pieces

There are hardly any pieces left

And every time she watches her sleep

Lost in her drunken slumber

A part of her dies

She cries silently

Weakened by her neighbours’ whispered prophesies

“what a shame, she’ll end up just like her mother”

She’s only 8 years old

The only choice that she has made

Is to not end her life

Every other choice –

Past, present and future

Has been made for her

Her absent father decided

Even before her birth that she was a mistake

And her mother decides her fate

A sip of beer at a time

She lay in her vomit – Again

A casualty of her mother’s choices

Her last thought before she blacked out

Was how she had tried alcohol

Hoping it would end her life

But instead she had found in it

A consoling friend and an escape

That made her understand her mother better