A Mothers Love

A baby bird with broken wings

Listen softly as mothers scream

She is distraught and filled with rage

Was forced to carry this vicious egg

Failure is what failure does

Something to which she can never love

Little bird with a broken wing

Such a pitiful and unwanted thing

Gives a whistle to hear sweet sounds

Mother hurries to the ground

Kicks up dirt

Rocks and

Leaves

She is filled with terrible things

But the little bird sees none of this

Moves its wing in for a kiss

A Hug

A gentle touch

All ignored

By the hateful bird

But baby bird does not notice

Filled to much with hope and purpose

Mother bird shudders and drops

Gives a tweet and then flies off

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Permission

CW:Suicidal thoughts, Self-harm, depression and parenting.

My daughter has never really experienced death. The only way I could explain things to her is that when people die they change. Thier bodies break down and they become other. Tress, grass, flowers, but not just plants.

This hurt her of course. She is only four yet I needed to explain why I cried when I held her grandmothers photo. Sure she wasn’t blood but she meant so much to me.

My daughter has little memory of her. Try as I might she has now forgotten her.

There are days I cry cause I know she is disappointed in me.

I explained to my little one that grandma is a flower. A beautiful Daisy just like her. One day I will be a flower as well. I want to be a lily or lavender. Those are among mt favorites.

I get sad a lot. Some days I want to be a flower as soon as possible but others I do not mind the wait. Last night was horrible. I cried a lot as I held my daughter and told her I wished I could be a flower. She told me that she didnt want me to leave. That being a flower wasn’t a good thing.

She denied my request to leave.

I sent my daughter to bed then promptly self mutilated to stop the pain. I learned long ago that I am a terrible person but I love my daughter with all my soul. Instead of cutting like I wanted to, I held a blade against my arm and pressed down. It never broke past the first two layers. I figured it would be enough to ground me but it wasn’t.

So I heated the blade and tried it that way. This time it worked. The pain was glorious and I found instant relief.

But

I messaged a suicide chatline anyways. The burning faded way to quickly. I had no desire to die but I wanted to hurt. I wanted to be in control of the pain. To channel it to a more manageable location.

I will not lie and say that this was bot a mistake, cause it was. So many things could have gone wrong. In that moment I needed it but I could have done something else.

I know this now.

But it doesn’t take away from the desire to want to do it again.

A statement

I know to learn how to forgive myself for my mistakes. To not let all my flaws get to me. I know I allow them go control my life and it starts to effect that of my daughters.

I love her so much and I can see how my mental disorder is taking a toll on her.

I need to learn how to forgive myself before it is to late.

Goodbyes are never enough

It pleases me to see you suffer

That means my job is done

I pretend to be a good mother

Give you all I will ever be

Tell you stories

Hold you close

I hide my secret safe inside of me

It pleased me to see you suffer

Made you believe all was well

Told you such pretty lies

Cherished your little smile

And told you love will set you free

It was so fun to see you hopeful

Right before I had to leave

I hate myself so much. Way more than people deem possible. There are days when I look forward to dying. I walk down the street and become upset every time a car gets to close only to figure out they are going to close to the side walk. I think it would be a good way to go. Though there are times when I am afraid of the pain. When dying seems to right but the pain of it makes it so I get a little frightened. Not a day goes by when I don’t wish it though.

What is even stranger it that I am a mother. I love my child with every fiber of my being. Even when I am angry with her I do not regret her at all. She gives me life and here I am wanting to take it away. I want to die despite the gift I have been given. No, I want to die to save the gift I have been given. With me around she will suffer. Am I monster because I find happiness in that?

My child tells me all the time that she loves me and that I am a good momma. It makes me smile when she says that but I know it is a lie. I am a horrible person. A horrible momma. Yet I continue to let her believe this lie. She tells me I am important and that she never wants to leave my side. I always tell her that I will never leave her. It’s a lie…there will be a day when I will finally be free…but I can’t tell her that at all. She doesn’t know it yet but she will suffer because of me. She will see just how disgusting I am.

But I am afraid when I think of it. I want to do it for her. I want to free her from me but I can’t.

Voices leave no choice

Choices
By Zoha Lixue

I have waking nightmares.
Voices in my head
People wondering why I am not already dead
They ask me as a favor
To give up before I am able
I can give them all my excuses
But we all know it will be useless
I wasn’t made for this
And they know it
I ignore them
These horrendous voices
I pretend that they aren’t there
Impression in the wind
Hopefully one day they will end
In my head knowing they will one day win.

Bad Reception

Dial tone

No ones home

Just the thoughts inside me

Simple words can not miss

Yet simple words are what you get

I am an adult who feels to much

Sees to much

Hears to much

I have been through to much

Yet all in all

It is not enough

Words confuse me

Bring me pain

I know I sound childish

Possibly insane

Alas

There is nothing there

In my brain

Just a dial tone

To show no ones home.

Impressions

I do not hear voices I hear impressions. Emotions without words. I can feel it all bubbling behind my eyes. I don’t see figures but I get the sense that someone is watching me. I can feel them follow me. I can there eyes and every blink they make is registered in my mind.

But no

I do not see or hear people. I never have but how do I explain what I do go through. How do I tell people about my pain? They will judge me harshly and think I am lying. They will take away my daughter and tell me that I am unfit to be her mother. How do I show them that she is the only person in this world I care for. That even as I am fading she is thriving. I give all my enegery to her. Yes, I am dying. Not in the way others may think but in a way that says my body is deteriorating along with my mind. The illness I suffer from is in my head…not in a way that makes it unreal but in a way that shows that it is unseen. I am dying slowly and she is the only thread keeping me intacted. Without her I will die all the sooner.

But how do I ask for help without the world trying to kill me faster?