my mother tells me that she's never been broken before
that she's just another statue waiting for the next hurricane to try and weather her away.

mom,
look at me.
there’s a hurricane brewing for a long while now,
and i dont think i’m heavy enough to stay put

and i've been breaking for a long while now,
you see these? wrist
they've been aching for a long while now,
but i dont scratch the itches,
they’re closed now but i dont think they’ll stay closed for a long time
do you remember when you found me in the corner?
skin opened for fresh air?
i told you i was sorry, mom, and i was.
i was so so sorry.

how about these, mom? knees
they’re scarred and damaged
that was the last time i knew i could fall and be caught.

how about this, mom? face
try seeing this in the mirror for seventeen years straight, mom.
can you hear the rustling in it?
can you feel a monolithic b****** waiting in the shadows?
I dont know myself anymore, mom.

you say you're good at reading.
can you read me?
i am a stone tablet,
commandments drip from my fingernails like sweat
i'm crumbling, mom, im crumbling and i dont know what to do.

chest
this. this was from you, mom.
and dad. and him. and them. and everyone, mom.
there's a stake in there, dividing it like a cartographer's nightmare
it's got shareholders and it's own bleeding oilwell
but it was never up for conquering.

i'm afraid there's too much of me with everyone else, mom.
that there's barely enough soul to keep in my pocket for me.
i never owned myself, mom.
i was always someone's thing to be,
but i never told anyone, "i'm yours."
I promise, mom.

I was his-for such a long time, and im thankful i never gave myself away
Never said “i belong to you”
all of that, i thought, was already understood.
But I guess it wasn’t
Because now im broken,
So help me, mom
There’re bits of me scattered everywhere
And I cant find them.

I just cant find them