By Ashley
Date: 8 June 2000
Poor Mother
"I worry", she said
you never get out of bed
You cry too much
You act older than my 46 years
Your 17 year old body is worn
torn and weak
She says it simply
Too simply maybe.
I say that the stars don't shine for me anymore
It's always dark out
through my eyes
My bed is a place of comfort
and dreams exist there
and only there;
where my life was once full of them
and goals
now they consist of getting through the day.
My finger bleed from bite marks
skin torn from nervous habits
Tension builds
backaches
headaches
doctor appointments
Why? I wonder
They all wonder
yet do not speak
only she speaks
because she knows me
sees through me
experiences the pain alongside me
I used to be her inspiration
Now I AM her pain
I AM her worries
I AM her daughter
She can love me
But for now
she CAN"T help me
Back to the Heart-on-Sleeve Corner