Dear Mom,
I'm sorry to tell you this way,
But you're little daughter is starving herself,
And you're little daughter lets a blade dance on her wrists,
And her tears flow like the Nile at night,
And she doesn't know how to tell you.
Dear Mom,
She doesn't want you to worry,
or for you to think that you perfect little family,
is anything less then perfect.
She is afraid of you're reaction,
afraid that maybe you won't believe her.
Dear Mom,
I'm sorry to tell you this way,
But it's the only way that I knew how to.
Dear Mom,
I'm sorry for the blood on the floor.
YOU ARE READING
Maybe it Will End
PoetryWARNING TRIGGER Just a collection of poems that are written about self harm and depression. All poems written by me unless said otherwise Cover by lilydawnxx
