Generic poetry
And a Father who left me

Generic photography
And a Mother who I believe loves me

Fake friends, expensive brands,
Shots of ***** on the kitchen floor
After fumbling around,
Trying to forget about the day that almost killed me.

But how can you die, before being born?
Sometimes I imagine myself trying to commit suicide in the womb,
On the 8th month my Mother was pregnant with me,
The man who never sat me on his shoulders,
Never made my family breakfast,
And never brought me in to 'Bring your Child to Work Day',
walked out of the door and carried with him all the could-haves of my childhood.

Silent panic attacks,
No one validates,
Because they are silent
And not screaming for help
The way my eyes do.

Meltdowns after medicine,
Throwing up,
Being too loud and too proud,
Never seeing past the bedroom door
Because the days were just too much for me to absorb.

Not knowing how to be grateful,
Because all I see is dusk
And dark
And fear
And no light I've ever known.