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Keidy. My Mother.
January 6, 2023
I do it all by myself anyways.
To ask for help is an unlikely possibility.
Yet I open up my heart
called out your name-
I become nothing but a burden under your hand when I speak my plea.
It seems in light of all you have put me through,
I am nothing but a waste of money, space.
I come out of my shell- to my mother, I cry out
and the first thing I hear is of my strain on your back.
Oh, how I break your heart.
I am out of words- I waste my pencils lead and my notebook paper
every time I write of someone who will never quite get it.
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This is dedicated to my mother, who will never quite get it, and who only has shown her love to me when I met her expectations of what her child should be.