Poem, Nov. 13

Today's my mom's birthday.
She was born on Friday the 13th.
What an appropriate omen for a person turned evil.
I wish things were different.
She wasn't always bad.
She encouraged me to draw.
And emphasized manners.
I get my selfishness from her, though.
If ghosts exist, she is having a helluva time. 
She would've been 67 years old.