Dear Mom--
It's kind of hard to say a lot sometimes.
I'm scared for you, honestly.
I know you can handle it, but lately,
You've been a little harder on yourself
Than what's really necessary.
Times have been tough for both of us.
I know you want to be home more,
But I know you need to work too.
I want you to know
That it's okay.
I don't blame you.
I never have.
But I'm really worried sometimes, Mom.
You'll come home from work
And you'll look so defeated,
That I don't know what to do.
I want to help you,
But I know you don't want it.
It's a trait I got from you, I guess.
But I'm really scared, Mom.
There's days when I don't think you'll come home
Because of me.
There's days, sometimes weeks,
Where everything just seems to be
My fault and mine alone.
Logic, or maybe it's that little girl,
Tells me it's not my fault,
for my--our situation,
But there's this other side of me,
That constantly nags at me, Mom.
It tells me that no matter what I do
I'll never be enough.
I feel like everything is my fault, Mom,
And as you turn another page,
I wanted to tell you--
I'm sorry.
