Unspoken Poetry

Hey, Mom

I hate you.

I cannot help that.

I absolutely despise what you are.

You have made me what I am and

I am sorry if what I am is not enough.

Still driving away, tapping the wheel angrily

I am nothing but

a vessel of passed down hatred.

I am everything you swore you would not be.

Daughters are just a mother's blood made into a body,

Stuck between her legs,

trying to escape the shadows of her thighs.

I am sorry if my body is not enough.

I am apologizing to the semi that is in front of me.

I am apologizing to the voice ringing in my ears.

I am sorry the last thing I told you was a lie.

I am fumbling for my phone, the cracked screen.

My brain is in my hands, I am choking on a lung.

I taste of nothing but regret and

I am sorry and

Please forgive me.

I do not know what to do, so I call you.

I call you before the hospital gets a chance to

I know my own choices are slim so

I try my best to tell you the truth.

Everyone thinks we have so much time to do the right thing.

I thought that.

The world is spinning, and I should be dancing.

But I'm not.

I should be loving you all the time I know.

We always have enough time until we don't.

I don't

Do you forgive me?

I love you, Mom.