2025

I had grown weary, Of trying to be worthy, I had to be my own friend, I had to betray myself less; In the name

From a young age, I witnessed the harm it did, The bitter brew that tore my mother’s soul . It stole my father’s strength, left

We share walls, not a life. We pass in hallways, ghosts in our own lives. Footsteps on the stairs, a stranger’s rhythm. The kitchen table,

I stand between two worlds, A child lost in a maze, Where love once bloomed, now withers, And trust has lost its place. My mother,

Dear Diary, My mother hates me. My very existence irritates her. My semblance to my dad haunts and humiliates her. My very being stings and

You never loved me enough. You took my innocent love for granted. I gave you my best— Waking early, hustling for us, Even while heavily

It began in a room, Where the walls adorned my drawings, Where my Legos lay scattered, Where the air should have smelled of childhood, Not

Her eyes were the first thing I learned to fear, Not her words, not her hands—just her eyes. Her eyes were oceans— Not of warmth,

I have borne witness, To the boundless warmth, The immeasurable spark, The seductive charm, Of those that are adored. By adored, I mean this; Your