TELL ME MA

TELL ME MA,

how do i kill myself knowing that you almost died giving birth to me

you say, psychology was your favorite subject then why is it that you fail to understand me?

you ask me "what problems can you possibly have? you're only ninteen"

but how do i tell you ma? how do i tell you, about the high-functioning depression that i am a victim of?

how do i tell you that i have anxiety issues, when you doubt at my incapability to write my exams and pass them?

how do i tell you about the girl who broke my heart when you're too conservative to even see me talk with a girl?

tell me, ma.

how do i talk to you about my broken heart when you don't believe that someone as young as me can ever have his heart broken?

how do i talk to you about how lonely i feel when you think i have enough friends?

how do i tell you that i want to kill myself when i know you almost died giving birth to me?

i can never share with you the things that made my heart bleed

i can never show you the poetry i have created out of the wounds that never healed.

i can never tell you about the unusual breakdowns in the school washroom, about the nightmares i have, and the demons that suffocate me every day.

but

i know you try your best, ma. and i know you love me. you're still the most beautiful woman in my life, even if you don't understand poetry.

you're still an amazing mother, even if you think i'm too young to have problems. you're still the person i think of going to when i cry. even if i can never justify these tears to you,

and you're still the person that makes me stay. even if i don't want to wake up the next day.