My mother asked me what was wrong
I didn't tell her that my bones ached
Or that my heart felt like it was going to beat out of my chest
I didn't tell her that it hurt to move
Or that it took all of my energy to even open my mouth to reply
I told her that I was sick
She assumed that I was talking about my body

My shortcomings aren't what sends me over the edge
It's knowing that I am not and never will be good enough
It's the torture and taunting that my own mind creates
It's the fear and worry over this feeling of impending doom
It's the snide glance they give me that creates a "down the lane" ****
It's trying your hardest and it not ever being enough
It's the feeling of failure
But mostly, it's knowing that all these things aren't true and feeling them anyway

She could see that he wanted to cry
She noticed the familiar look in his eye
But he willed his eyes not to leak
He busied his hands
And he made noises- as if to speak
In a futile attempt to regain control over his emotions
As if the single tear rolling down his cheek-
The expression of all the worries
And troubling thoughts
That continue to weigh down his heavy heart-
Will make him less of a man in his daughter's eyes
She can roll her eyes all day
She can scream and shout
She can groan and complain forever about
How he's overbearing
How he embarrasses her
And how he just doesn't understand
But every time she sees him
Sitting across from her
With watery, red rimmed eyes and a tight throat
She is reminded
That he and she are made up of the same stuff
That he loves her more than anything in this world
And that he is the sole reason for her existence