Mama, I’m…

Mama, I’m tired.
I close my eyes at night, but I know I don’t sleep.
I wake up and the thoughts I had the night before are still there.
Mama, I hurt all over.
In my spirit. In my body.
Even my hair hurts.
Mama, they don’t listen to me.
I’m the one they come to when they’re feeling bad,
but they never ask me how my day was.
But even if they did, I wouldn’t tell them.
Because then they’d truly know me,
and I don’t want them to know me like that.
Mama, I’m scared.
I don’t want to be a failure.
I don’t want to be a victim of my generation.
Mama, life’s too hard.
Why can’t it ever be easy?
I know I don’t have it as bad as the others,
so that makes me feel worse.
Mama, I can’t drown them out.
I listen to Protection, and Tracey’s singing only for me.
Mama, it’s so monotonous.
Every day I get up and I do the same thing I did the day before.
There’s got to be more to life than this.
Mama, I’m tongue-tied.
Why can’t I say what’s in my heart at the right time?
I wish I could own my spoken words.
I wish I could believe what I write.
Mama, I don’t want to be strong anymore.
I want to make you proud of me,
of the daughter I’m going to be,
but I can’t hold on much longer.
Mama, I wish I could tell you this.
But I know you wouldn’t listen to me.
You’d hear, but you wouldn’t listen.
Mama, I miss him.
But I was afraid to let him down, and he got away.
Just like you, Mama. Just like you.

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