Random Leaf #869 precisely cut

A part of me—

deep inside of me—

is dying.

It shouts:

> “No!

You didn’t mean that—

take it back.”

And I—

I’m becoming less and less convinced

this isn’t who I am.

I can see the little child in me,

crying,

begging—

begging for me to apologize,

begging for me to be who I used to be.

But I’ve grown weary.

So tired—

So exhausted.

Today—

with resentment

and tears held back,

I wished my mother dead.

My voice croaked

as I told it

straight to her face.

I wish not to be forgiven—

for this is how truly

I am hurting.

And now,

I feel 

I’m nearing

a point

of no return.