Diary of a Dead Girl

mother

not a poem I just needed to share, sorry for the late poem my wifi was out. Good luck in life.

A scared child stands with her mother in line at a department store, she is 5. Her mother absentmindedly promises to take her daughter to look at the toys downstairs, but the young girl wanders off to look by herself, without her mother's knowledge. She stares at the beautiful toys and decorations knowing her family could never afford such luxuries. The girl wades deeper into the store as the minutes roll by. She began to miss her mother, it wasn't long before she was crying and being comforted by a strange security guard. She trusted him because his smile was nice and he promised to find her mother. The girl is then reunited with her mother, who is a sobbing mess with eyeliner and mascara rolling down her face. Her eyes were bloodshot and her breath smelt of alcohol, but the perfume she was wearing masked the scent of it all, bringing a positive balance to the chaos of her appearance. Later that night back at home, the girl finds her mother sound asleep, a bottle of Tito's laid half empty beside her.

A scared child sits on a playground bench, she is 6. The wind was cold and harsh, her face turned pink from the frigid breeze. Another child approaches her and asks if she would be the mother in a game called House. The young girl smiled and followed the boy underneath the slide. A girl sat there, shivering in her coat, two sizes too small for her. They couldn't afford nice coats where they came from. The three began to play house, giggling and laughing through the screams of the wind warping around their small bodies. Their noses were pink, and their faces were elated. They were more than friends, they were a family. They were going to be a better family than the ones they had. The girl was happy, but she didn't want to be a mother to the two, she wanted to find one for them to share, but they wanted her. Maybe it was that bad to be wanted.

A scared young child sits at a desk, she is 7. Her classmates have fled the room for recess already. The girl knows why she is here, it was a routine at this point. The teacher, although young was wise enough to see she did not want to have this conversation. The teacher warns the child of her temperament and advises her to control her emotions. After all, what man will want a wife who can't control herself? The teacher releases the child from the classroom, however the girl stops in her tracks and wraps her arms tightly around the teacher. She wasn't looking for a way to hide the tears falling from her eyes, she was looking for a mother. She hadn't had much luck as of lately.

A young child stands by her stepmother, she is 8. Her stepmother was the only one who bothered enough to attend the parent-teacher conferences, however, the girl didn't like them. It was an excuse for teachers to compliment her academics, but criticize her expression. She didn't care much about how fast she could read or how many multiplication facts she had memorized, she wanted people to see her art, her sonnets, to hear her. It's such a shame that nobody ever did. Her teacher shows the stepmother the young girls' work for the year, vocabulary worksheets with 100% circled in red pen at the top, but drawings and doodles on the side. The teacher goes on to explain a behavioral chart, they have a plan for the girl to so-called "fix her" but what she has cannot be fixed, only contained. And containing it was taking a toll on her. It hurt her to see her teacher say such vile things about her emotions, her voice was enough to well up tears in her eyes. She'd constantly attach herself to her female teachers year after year only to be disappointed when she saw that she was just another kid to them. She realized then, standing next to the two, that she would never find a mother, only someone who wanted to fix her. Only a mother could wipe away the fears she had, and get her to cooperate the way they wanted her to.

A young child stands at the entrance of a new school, she is 9. After an intense custody battle, the girl was forced to move households and schools, she was forced to give up on her family. A girl approaches her and introduces herself, she is tall and she is beautiful. And she'd cared enough to worry that the girl hadn't made a friend yet. She's guided her to a classroom, filled with students. Nobody stared as she walked in, nobody even noticed her. She sat down and began her daily lessons, doodling on a Get To Know You worksheet. At recess, the same girl found her and dragged her to a rope-climbing sort of playground, where she and a few other girls a bit older than she discussed their classroom crushes. Once again, their coats were too small, their hair was unbrushed, and they were neglected just as she had been. The court cases recently had required her to look her best, so her stepmother had to step in and make sure she was well-maintained. She longed for the days, however, when she was with her mother, when she still had one. She didn't care that she wasn't fed most days, she cared about her mother. And she wanted to get her back. She returned her attention to the girls. They seemed to look down on her, almost as though she were a pet. To them, she probably was. Her frame was built of few muscles and brittle bones, and she was covered in scabs and bruises. They didn't respect her, they wanted to control her. They were just like her mother. And so it was they became. Up until the last day of school when they carried her in their arms out of school, her parents were making her move across the country. And she once again would have to find a mother.

A young child sits at a lunch table, she is 10. Two girls approach her, one introduces herself as the principal's daughter, and the other as her friend. They talk to the girl as more people gather around the principal's daughter, they seem to like her. The daughter talked about herself and the girl complimented her. She was fueling her ego, and she was doing it well. Months went in and she stayed with the same girls, only the friend group had grown larger, and with it so had the distance between her and the others. Until finally she and one other girl had broken them off. And together they set off to find a new mother. At last, they found one, but she, like the girl, was only a child. She couldn't support them, so they broke it off. And they set off to find a new mother. The girls had grown to care for each other and had a friendship like no other. The girl however had grown obsessed with her, and jealousy came along with it. She watched as her friend gained popularity and the eyes of others, and as her friend gained for others. She couldn't help but wish she had the girl's full attention.

A young girl stood in her friend's arms, she was 11. Summer had been rough, and she couldn't help but let her mind wander as to what her friend had done without her all summer. A few new faces surrounded her, her friend introduced them as our new friends. The girl made her promise that she didn't love her any less, she of course did. Although she could see in her eyes that she was bored of her. She wanted them to leave. However, as time passed she grew to care for the others just as much as she did for her friend. They became her friends, her family, her haven. And she loved them, she loved them so much. She'd of course found a new mother, she was a child though. A more mature one of that, but not much older than she was. Her mother was beautiful, her voice was calming, and she smelt like cocoa butter. She'd been her home, this little family of hers, until her mother had left again. And she was plagued with the task of finding a new one. She didn't want to, although she knew she must. Until then she would stay with her family, and love them. And be there for them. Even if she couldn't express how much she loved with words or comfort. But she loved them in the only way she knew how.

The girl grew older, she was 12 now. And she had never found a mother since. She'd failed at her task, and she'd failed at life. She'd starved herself for some sense of the life she once had. She wanted to be this skinny, it reminded her of how she felt with her mother. She'd realized how crazy she sounded. But was she crazy for wanting comfort? For want some backup plan in case things go south? No, she wasn't. She was crazy for falling into a pattern of loving someone and knowing they could never stay. So she stayed in a state of fear and paranoia her whole life. She would never find a mother, she would never be loved. She would always find the bad in people, and she would always be the one to bring it out. She felt sorry for the damage she caused, she did. But when it comes down to it, she'd do anything for love. Anything to heal her wounds, even if it meant reopening them. Her story is one better off forgotten to all except those who know her story, and who can relate to her. Although the idea of that happening is severely unlikely. So if you're reading this, and you're healing too, I advise you this: you will not find comfort in someone until you find comfort in yourself. I've destroyed relationships and lives because I wasn't ready to heal. So I urge you to stop being a scared child and grow up.