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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1941185-The-bath-mat
Rated: ASR · Non-fiction · Biographical · #1941185
my punishment as an adolescent
Sadness, Confusion, and Tears,
coursing through my soul.
Transforms into rage.
You call yourself a mother?
As i sit behind this closed door
Lost, alone, hungry and cold.

I know i can't leave
So I cry, tears flow heavy.
It's cold, I'm lonely
I gaze out the small window
Wishing for a better day, a better life.
I know it's out there.

Why can't I find it? I'm searching.
Why is this my fate?
Sent to bed without dinner.
Bed? What bed I ask.
As i curl up on my bath mat
on the bathroom floor.

With no blanket or pillow,
I kick the door until I'm weary.
I give up, but I'm curious.
What's in the cabinet?
there's pills. I read the label.
none of it makes sense.

It really doesn't matter, I don't care.
I fill my hand with water from the sink.
I swallow the pills.
But I don't want to die. I just want someone to see.
Nothing happens, I wait, I'm still here, lonely.
And I'm scared.

Scared of the dark, so i check the shower.
I saw no demons.
But I know they're there. They're always there.
In my mind and surrounding my soul.
Exhausted I give up.
I accept that tonight i sleep on a bath mat.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1941185-The-bath-mat