I wonder if my mom hears me
crying in the night for you,
but chooses to turn away,
just like you did.
Have you noticed that my medication bottles
are empty?
It’s in case you hurt me again.
I find that my words no longer flow from
my pen
but my tears are never ending.
I’ve started to pray,
even though I’m not even religious,
I just need the false hope that
somebodies listening.
I’ve started to keep track of the dark thoughts
in my head on my wrist.
It seems as if I barely exist,
just a person made up of
messy poems like this.