I wish I could speak
about what happened to your daughter,
but your heart has already carried
too many storms.
You were hurting I know that now but I was still a child
waiting to be chosen,
waiting to be protected,
waiting to be seen.
I learned to shrink, to shape myself
into someone easier to love,
someone you might stay for.
Maybe if I were softer,
quieter, better maybe then you would look at me and feel proud instead of tired.
Sometimes I think if I loved you less
it would hurt less, but you are stitched into my thoughts , I'm your blood afterall
I can’t become someone new, even if I tried.
I can only be the girl who kept trying to be enough.
And I hope one day
when you look at me
you’ll see
I was never against you mom
I was just trying to be loved by you.