diaryofskylah

Bruised, but breathing

A misunderstood girl,
carrying four small lives in my hands,
while my own needs fall through the floor.

Dad left the house empty.
Mom stays locked in her own quiet wars—
sober from some things, but lost to the rest.

I mask the trauma, the charges, the addiction.
I hide the deep, jagged wounds,
wearing a smile like armor,
so she doesn\'t have to hurt for her daughter.

I used to say I did this to myself.
But how could a child know any better?
When the world is upside down,
picking up the bottle feels just like coming home

I am bruised
I am bleeding
But against it all,
I am still breathing