Mother,
if heaven still listens to women like you,
then please—
do not pray for me tonight.
I am too stained
to stand beside your faith.”
The boy you raised
still lives somewhere inside me,
hidden beneath trembling hands,
powdered nights,
bloodshot eyes,
and the smell of sins
I never meant to commit.
I was not born cruel, Ma.
I was just weak
at the wrong time.
One poison became another,
one escape became a cage,
and slowly,
I stopped recognizing
the monster wearing my face.
That night—
God, that night—
I swear upon your name
I never wanted anyone to die.
My mind was drowning,
my soul was numb,
and the devil inside the drugs
held the knife tighter than I did.
Now every night
I hear a heartbeat stopping
inside my dreams.
Every morning
I wake up guilty
for still being alive.
This prison is not these walls, Ma.
It is the memory.
It is surviving
after destroying a life
I can never return.
And the worst punishment?
Knowing your son
became the reason
another mother cries herself to sleep.
Sometimes I press my shaking hands together
and whisper apologies
to a God
who no longer answers me.
But when I whisper,
“Ma…”
my voice breaks differently.
Because you loved me
before the world taught me
how to ruin myself.
If I could return to you
as that innocent boy again,
I would.
I would trade every breath,
every vein poisoned with addiction,
every nightmare,
just to sit beside you once more
while you ran your fingers through my hair
and called me good.
But now I live in a healing hell—
a place where I am punished
not by chains,
but by regret.
And every day
I try to become human again
inside a body
that remembers how to destroy
May 15
May 15, 2026 at 3:09 AM UTC
Mother,
if heaven still listens to women like you,
then please—
do not pray for me tonight.
I am too stained
to stand beside your faith.”
The boy you raised
still lives somewhere inside me,
hidden beneath trembling hands,
powdered nights,
bloodshot eyes,
and the smell of sins
I never meant to commit.
I was not born cruel, Ma.
I was just weak
at the wrong time.
One poison became another,
one escape became a cage,
and slowly,
I stopped recognizing
the monster wearing my face.
That night—
God, that night—
I swear upon your name
I never wanted anyone to die.
My mind was drowning,
my soul was numb,
and the devil inside the drugs
held the knife tighter than I did.
Now every night
I hear a heartbeat stopping
inside my dreams.
Every morning
I wake up guilty
for still being alive.
This prison is not these walls, Ma.
It is the memory.
It is surviving
after destroying a life
I can never return.
And the worst punishment?
Knowing your son
became the reason
another mother cries herself to sleep.
Sometimes I press my shaking hands together
and whisper apologies
to a God
who no longer answers me.
But when I whisper,
“Ma…”
my voice breaks differently.
Because you loved me
before the world taught me
how to ruin myself.
If I could return to you
as that innocent boy again,
I would.
I would trade every breath,
every vein poisoned with addiction,
every nightmare,
just to sit beside you once more
while you ran your fingers through my hair
and called me good.
But now I live in a healing hell—
a place where I am punished
not by chains,
but by regret.
And every day
I try to become human again
inside a body
that remembers how to destroy
A son in pain expresses his heart to his beloved mother...
