until my ***** bursts  i

i wish i could rip out all of my organs and die truly empty

you berate me for being sick
you berate me for being home
you berate me for wanting to go to school
you berate me for depending on you
you berate me for working


what do i  even do.

oh  i am meant to die soon   i see nothing  for my future

wishing and begging and praying will do nothing all you do is want and want and want

i scream and beg for you to care
about anything

about me
about your firstborn
about your
about
a


me

if i’m sick then you yell and scream about how i’m faking and lazy and horrible and run everything and

but if he’s sick then you cry and coddle and care for and drop everything

and the difference between us is age and the fact that i am chronically ill and he is a drug addict