Tonight my mom is having a manic episode just like I do.
Passed down from generation to generation is a shadow , a void deep within our minds.
I feel ill and twisted. Like the vines growing in my veins , growing thicker and begging to burst. Just so dark crimson can run down my arms , my legs , my eyes. Fading into black and growing thinner. Falling onto dimly lit tiles and rising up as dark smoke.
I am suffocated by my thoughts that are slowly blending into real life. Like paint that is every color of the rainbow being swirled together until it turns sickly green brown, like my eyes.
I admire an iris that hasn't been tainted like mine , diluted , dripping. Eyes that haven't seen what I have as a little hopeless child. A happy child , a sad child , a broken child. It was too real. Too bright and blinding to be nothing.
Shining into my pupils , traveling into my soul, reflecting my being for the world to see. I am ashamed.
I was weak, I am weak. I am sorry mom and dad. That your pain has made me and not your joy.
A product of dark memories and buried thoughts. I tried to hide it, so I wouldn't become worse.
I can't ever promise I will love myself and who I let myself become. The scars have burned too deep; but I will always love you.