i make my mom cry

i hear it through our gypsum walls
fervent prayers in another language, begging god to fix me, to give her the strength to help me

and i just sit there
selfishly feeling shitty about my actions but making no attempt to change

i often wonder if her life would be better had i never existed in the first place
i know the answer.

afterwards, she goes about her day like nothing ever happened
pops her head into my room with pitch-perfect concern and asks if i've eaten? if i've taken my meds?

one day i will and she won't have to ask again.

panic attacks at night
jaw clicks, ideation
i might
"just might do it this time"

coward.

a corpse in the morning
locked in, dissociate
depressive episodes and denying my faith
to you, in you, to you

hate the way i've become
just like you, arch nemesis
i'm exactly as you said before
i'll do it this time

coward.