Growing up too fast

I watch you
as your drunken mother
staggers amongst
the crowd of
rock music diehards.
Her tired shoes
which you
clutch in your hand
are the least
of your burden.
Your ten year old body
bends with the weight
of anxiety
and the backpack
carrying promises
and food.
Your eyes dart
with embarrassment
as she weaves
back and forth.
Your plea
of desperation
"can we please go home"
not heard
over the crowd,
the music and her
oblivion.