for the second time,
my mother left us.
it went by so quickly but the only words i can remember were
"this will be the last time you see me."
you don't know how words like that from your own parent effect you.

for the second time,
my mother broke my heart
but this time into pieces that can't be put together anymore,
too little and too shattered for me to want to attempt to try to mend it back together.

for the third time,
i know that things will never be the same.

for the "time i can't even count because it's been so many times",
i don't want to be here