The live's I've lived

Poem #156

It's a lonely feeling crawling on your hands and knees into your parent's bedroom and watching them breathe and realizing that even if you woke them up, they couldn't fix this problem. They couldn't make this go away this nightmare is everlasting. I would like to crawl in bed next to my mother I would like her to wrap her arms around me and tell me that it was just a dream. But it wasn't. This is my reality. My father can no longer search my room and tell me there's no monsters because I see them now. Now they don't just come out at night but they're always around. This is a heartbreak my mother can't make better with ice cream and a romantic movie. She can't softly wipe her thumb across my cheek. And make the pain go away. This pain in me is deep its the reason I have heavy feet. As I watch my parents breathe, I realize they are no longer my heroes but just people who know me a little too well. I would like to give them my pain. My parents say if they could, they would scoop it out of me and devour it for their dinner. I told them if I could I'd make my suffering even less loud so they wouldn't be able to notice. They already have the pain of being alive. What's the point of adding the pain of being a teenage girl. So, I won't wake them up. I won't burden them with a problem they can't fix. Instead, I'll just stand and watch them breathe just like all the younger versions of me.