My mom

As a child I never seemed to think I would want to die.
I would've never thought to self harm or want to be thinner,
Neither did my mother .. She didn't know that I couldn't breathe
because my lungs were so corrupted by the smoke from the lies I etched from out between my teeth, she didn't understand that when I spoke it was a sign of plea
and I just wanted someone to rescue me. She didn't look for the scars on my skin, the blood on my hands, or the broken dreams in my eyes.
Because to her it was enough that I was still alive and breathing
It didn't matter if I was on the verge of screaming, as long as I didn't we were going to be okay. I prayed every night that things would get better that she would notice that her little girl was leveling with the idea of wanting to die or to try to live another day. My mother was naive and I was desperate to leave ..