Would you forgive me

If I told you that I lost myself

A long time ago?

That I looked away for one second

And the small fingers I had been clutching

Slipped away and hid behind impenetrable walls?

That I looked for a long time.

But now I’m too tired to look

Anymore.

Would you forgive me

If I told you I sliced at the skin tight

And loose upon me with a dull

Blade of words and sharp gazes.

I never pressed hard enough to bleed,

But I scrubbed my skin hard enough

To bring up red welts of self-doubt that

Never went away.

Would you forgive me

If I told you that I find a new thing to hate every day?

Soon I will hate every single inch.

Would you forgive me

If I told you that my dreams died

With that first look from an adult full of doubt?

I am only clinging onto a scrap of a dream

That will become nothing.

Ghosts of the past chasing their tails

In an endless circle until they foam at the mouth

And fall dead in exhaustion.

Would you forgive me

If I told you that I was more scared of

Being worthless than being poor.

Deathly afraid of disappointing you

And my words that never escape past

My own fingers; cut short in

The silence they never interrupt.

Would you forgive me, Dad?

If I said I was too scared to go on?

Would you forgive me, Mom?

If I said that I can’t find welcome in my

Dreams anymore?

Would you forgive me, God?

If I said that you should have never created me

In the first place?

Probably not.