I bow my head in defeat
as I look at the pictures of my past
laying across my bedroom floor on my 18 birthday.
I wasn't a bad daughter at the beginning,
but toward the end of those years all I did was scream.
Mother, this wasn't your fault.
The drinking, the smoking, and sex
were all done by me and me alone.
I fold my arms and close my eyes,
looking back at that which was my Dad.
'He started this mess...'
My thoughts waver on the thought that it is his fault not mine
that I became that thing that was so broken inside.
Mother, I'm so sorry that I changed so much.
My fingers go to tracing the scars,
left behind from a year I spent locked away inside.
That thing wasn't me, I remember that now.
The clouds that cover my eyes have all, but disappeared.
Mother, I know you where by my side
as I lost myself to the pain.
I know the nights that you held my hand
as I laid in those hospital beds.
Mom, I may not be the best daughter,
but I beg you please to forgive me.
Tears roll down my painted face
as I look at the scattered past.
Please forgive your mislead daughter.
Bronze trophy winner
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