Its been a long time since I've truly felt a mother's love...her soft hug and tender kiss on my cheek...now I barely even say hi...
If I'm finally going through with it, I'd like for my last words to be said to the people who've changed my life...
The time I learned to read and write, she held me close. She smiled as I read outloud of my first grade book. I had felt such pride in my words as I carefully read them.
...I can't seem to remember such happy thoughts after that...
...the times that came afterwords haunt my thoughts. I feel like a ghost around her, barley spoken to, and barely noticed...
The screams and cries of the night before are nothing compared to the words that came from my once loving mothers mouth. To be hated in such a way in such an early age in my life
Is to truly ruin a childhood fast.
Concealing the hits and bruises under a dark sweater hide what has happened on the inside.
As my years pass, I only remember the pain of living, with the dream of peace and death in mind...what has happened to my mother's love for me?
Her words stung worse than her hits. To be called such profanities leaves me in such pains. I thought twice of life as my skin turned purple and brown under her closed fists. Scared to even scream, knowing that it'll only make things worse. Crying and begging for this all to stop.
Life's promises
A mother's love
All wither and die at the truth of it all...
Years have passed. Not a soul knows of what has gone on inside my tormented soul.
To cry in front of them shames me, but to finally break free and speak the truth to them saved me for a time. They cared about me, I finally found caring words, and friendly hugs.
Knowing how true friends have shown their care for me has saved my life for a while.
Without a friend to talk to, my soul would have given up...eyes might've would've cried...and I would've already died...
After not being able to contain this pain, a silver solver slices a vein.
Pills and poison helped me none,
I woke up and saw the sun.
I cried the previous night, my mother's words stung worse than any pain, than any blade...
To be hated in such a way, to know that she wants you disowned, never born, to shout to you that you were never loved, never were supposed to be born, is a fate truly worse than death.
To be told that the second daughter was her princess, her only loved daughter, are words that manifest in the heart and soul of anyone that bring only hatred...never love anymore.
Such hatred I've felt all these years...never have I ever wanted to live like this. If my soul had only been taken back, then this mindless insanity wouldn't be raging within.
To feel the slight stings, and see the cool red drip down on the white bed sheets was almost soothing. Calming the rage just minutes ago. Soft clear tears drip down to my pillow. I recall those moments before. She had gotten the knife, and I had run away.
To see such anger...such hatred in her eyes, makes me question how I'm still alive. How can I still be breathing when I'm dying inside? She's already broken me so much to the point that I can't even imagine how I could've ever seen love in those cold light-brown eyes.
To be screamed a disgrace and beaten to the ground the night before only to wear a sweater the next day and say the same now meaningless words every morning and every night " I Love You Mom..." only to be ignored with no response.
Why have I not stopped a long time ago trying to have her love once again? To have her tell me she's proud of me? That she loves me? That I'm supposed to exist! That I mean something to her! That I'm not a disgrace like my father...I'm not my father...I'm not her...I'm not my sister...I'm not the person up on the news...I thought I was myself, but I lost myself a long time ago...I dint know who I'm supposed to be anymore.
Losing my mind, has opened my eyes to a broken reality.
The therapy I've taken hurts worse. I can't talk to them...such cold unfeeling eyes examine my every word. My every movement. They don't understand how difficult my life had become, so I weave a story only they would like to hear.
I look at the sky sometimes and wonder how'd it be like to be free and fly. Not to be condemned to a cage and see a fate worse than death.
When she saw the scars and newly made wishes of bliss, she screamed and shouted why I couldn't have made them deeper? Why couldn't I have struck the vein? Why couldn't I just die already? Making fun of me, saying why I couldn't have just hung myself already.
Such thoughts of how motherly love could have once come are now gone. The only ones I have left are the ones who have stuck with me throughout the years.
Those who know my fears,
And have stopped my tears.
Their soft spoken voices of comfort, music to my ears.
I thank them t for being with me for so long, and I'd hate to say goodbye this way...
