I am slowly killing myself

with the expectations of others;

people who have more stock in me

then I do in my own dreams and

it hurts to pass a mirror and see

the past still clinging on 

in the form of my own shadow.

I do not think that I can

walk any further for all of the doubts

stitched to my legs and

it is hard to aspire to something greater

when my thoughts are always shadowed 

by the things I can not control.

If this is depression then it has grown

up with me, coddled me, replaced the hole

my mother left inside the moment she ripped

herself from my life before I even knew 

how to say ‘I love you.’ and could not

keep her there with words.

I do not want to be a mother.

I thought that I did but I cannot take

the thought of hurting a child before

they can even understand what pain is

before they know that children were

meant to be raised by two pairs of hands

to catch them when they fall and push them

when they waver and wave them on

when they need encouragement.

The walls around me are crumbling.

The world is crumbling.

I am crumbling and I do not think that

I can put myself back together again.