My mom has unpredictable issues.
I grew up living with a volcano.
It took its toll on me and gave me blues.
She’d hit me then hug me and call me beau.
Conflicted with love and hate, I moved on
I discovered anxiety and fear,
I fell into a deep, dark, depression.
When I moved out, my feelings became queer
An angry, sad, happy, guilty potion
Flowed through my veins. I couldn’t think clearly.
I wished of drowning, dreamt of death’s coming.
Swallowing pills, I signed “sincerely.”
Now it's two years later I’m still fighting.
Now, I’m living instead of surviving.