Mother, could you tuck me into bed one last time. Could I lay in your lap well you run your hands through my hair one last time. Could you tell me it's okay to cry and dream and scream. And then I promise I'll stop. I'll grow up mom I promise. Just read me one more bed time story. Just for one day act like I haven't changed into someone you don't recognize. Could you pretend I'm not angry. That I'm still childlike. Could you put a bandage over the cuts I did to myself. And could the bandage be pink. And could you kiss it. Then I think everything will be fine. If you just kiss the wounds mother, please I'm begging you. Act like I'm easy to love. And tell me I'm beautiful. Just talk to me. Just say you like me. I know I'm cold and selfish. That I slam the doors and never listen. But once could I cry to you about my problems and could you listen. I know I ripped the butterfly stickers off my walls but maybe if we look hard enough, we could find new ones. I know you think I'm chaos, but could you comfort me. Mother, could you still love me like the child I once was.
YOU ARE READING
The live's I've lived
PoetryThis is a collection of poems and pieces of writing. That I have written over the last 2 years of my life. I've never been one to actually live. To take the risk. A lot of the things I have written are about things that have happened in my head. Or...
