The back streets can still lead to sunshine

It was the dying embers
of a fire that kept us
warmed
when we'd been warned,
inside is for insiders.
On the outside
looking in,
with the drug sweats
and desolate attempts
at redemption,
as laughable now
as each of our mothers  
conditional  
love-
and we weren't conditioned enough
didn't make the cut,
not even the ones
that might have made us
feel alive
drip red
to prove that we weren't dead
even when you said-you are no daughter of mine.
and why?
because I always smiled
at the shadows, always had my fun  
when the sun went down.
At least I'm living my life
as you cower
with out the power to break free-
your ball and chain
won't be the end  
of me.