I am 6,
My mother does not
Tell me about real life
I had to put up a real fight
I am left to learn on my own
She barely notices how much I’ve grown

I am 13,
My mother does not
Hug me when I am celebrated
All my smiles feel fabricated
The school board tells me I am good
My mother can only look at her bank book

I am 18,
My mother does not
Take me to the hospital
My life drains fast little by little
She looks at me with contempt
As I gasp for air, failing attempts
She says she feels like an ATM
As she spits money in the midst of the mayhem

I am 25,
My mother does not
See the bruises she’s left
On my beating chest
When she tells me she does not feel like a mother
When I am around her
And I have to swallow the poison in my throat,
that spits "I've been trying to stay afloat"