dear mum
dear mum,
I still love to draw,
I still love to laugh,
I still love to ride,
but it's all too hard to do now.
The school you worked ever so hard to get me into ruined my love for art, ripped my aspiring artistic heart into shreds as they did my work.
dad laughs at me, not with me, and he's too busy with his own life to realise that at one point the only reason I breathed was a creature that could kill me
quicker than your tumour did.
I feel like a spectator in my own life,
your presence is stronger than my own.
All I do is survive, and at this point I'm barley able to eat, sleep, drink, and breath without feeling like I deserve to be where you are.
I miss you,
And that will never end.
