My Story

I repost the poetry they wrote,
To note that I relate.. but the point is innate if I don't initiate myself in the conversation.
I'm held accountable for my story at the end of my life..so why not dive into it while I'm alive?.. so maybe, by then I won't fear dying anymore..
I'm a little girl who's mother swore..she wore fake smiles, hiding behind piles of ashes, ashes, we all fall down,
We hit the ground and no one to catch us
Will us to be okay.
She stayed,
In the confines of the home
Once known to hold the family we call our own.
The only definitions for family are"a group of one or more parents and their children living together "no love "all the descendants of a common ancestor" all blood.
Blood that runs deep.. deep in the scars I sculpt on myslef
Perform for myslef...
I stopped you from killing yourself once.
Over a man.. I can't even pretend to have sympathy for you anymore.
It was your job to teach us to be strong, correct us when we're wrong. Not shame us, or blame us for all your short comings..
Though..Things weren't always bad.. you did love us..in your way.. but only when we reached a certain age, a certain stage in our life.. I didn't realize I needed to be thirteen to have an actual conversation with my mother...but there we were...sitting in that garage.. I watched it fill with smoke, as we spoke, the tears the ran down my face.. I just want to be seen.. heard..observed.. you used your words and conquered her..that thirteen year old girl..captured her with your false promises of love, trust and friendship..
Is that what you meant when you slept with my daughters father? You love me?
"You did me a favor " is what you said..
In that moment I wished you dead.
I trusted you, and you shoved me to the side, denied me again of love from you.. all for a man.. yet again..
I really  have no sympathy for you.. you do it to yourself.. You've sent us both to hell! It's that swell?! Thank you mom. Thank you for all you've done for me. Thank you for breaking the most sensitive parts of me.. my self esteem, self worth, the reason I HURT MYSELF. Thank you for ruining my trust.. like that rusty seat.. it busts under the weight.. the weight of all your lies and my shame..
It can't be contained in this body any more..I need these words to soar.. roar out of me, take the weight from me..mom I'm so sore! Mom please.. tell them the truth!..
But you won't...will you? you never do that which effects you negatively.. it doesn't matter who else is crushed by the weight of YOUR sins.. because in the end, we all pretend that it didn't happen.