Beyond these walls

Beyond

This Wall

by Betty

Depression came and claimed my name,

I haven’t felt quite real in days.

Some moments blur, some freeze in place—

Like I’m here, but not… just taking space.

My mother left when I was small,

Steel bars between her love and all.

She said she’d come, she swore she’d try,

But promises fade—and so did I.

He raised me rough—my father’s hands

Taught silence, fear, and harsh demands.

And while I begged for soft and kind,

I stitched up cracks inside my mind.

She came back years too late to stay,

And still I don’t know what to say.

I love her, sure… but still I burn

For every year she didn’t return.

Even on good days, it creeps in—

That heavy thought beneath my skin:

She left me there to fall apart,

And now wants space inside my heart.

I grew up fast. I had no choice.

Played mother with a child’s voice.

Fed my siblings, calmed their cries—

While I broke down in quiet skies.

I helped her more than she helped me,

And felt like that was how it’d be.

I watched her hurt, and still I stayed—

While she chose men who wouldn’t change.

Sometimes I ache, sometimes I see

She had her own hard history.

But you’d think, with what she’s been through,

She’d know what not to put me through.

Late nights, bathroom bleeds, whispered pain—

My tears would fall like hidden rain.

I never asked for perfect love—

Just someone safe to lift me up.

I’ve screamed in silence, lost in fear,

Just wishing someone would draw near.

To be their one, their child, their pride—

Not some burden brushed aside.

And still, each time I want to go,

Something inside me whispers no.

A future waits beyond this wall—

And maybe I can still have it all.