I look at this picture that I
Took three years ago.
During that time,
I was going through depression.
I was depressed about my life,
Boys who wouldn’t take me in,
And always worrying if my
Mom was gonna make it out okay.
See, she was going through her own pain.
She had cancer, the worst kind you
Ever did see.
It took over her body,
Making her weaker and weaker,
Until she had fallen into a coma.
Her hair was falling out
In the shower,
While she slept,
Even when she ate meals at the table.
She wanted to go places,
So I made creative fundraisers to raise the money,
But somehow, there just weren’t enough people
That would contribute to the cause.
And I couldn’t raise enough money
To make her dreams come true.
I cried and cried
Until I could cry no more.
It looked like my mom wasn’t gonna get
What could possibly make her happy,
And neither was I.
I just wanted my mom to get better,
Lose the pain of my murdered father,
And the memory of the car crash
That killed my baby sister,
Plus the cancer cells slowly killing her.
Sometimes, though,
I would walk into her sterilized room
And just glare at the beeping machines,
Wondering,
Why? Why her?!
And always feeling guilty when I thought,
Why couldn’t it be someone else’s mother?!
I tried cutting.
It stung, but it helped take away the pain
That I was feeling inside.
But that wasn’t even the beginning
Of my inside emotions.