Bad Habits

A poem about a daughter who's hurting by watching her mom slowly kill herself.

I remember when I was 7 years old

I realized what you were doing to yourself

It could be considered self-harming or just getting closer to

death, but no one thinks of it like that. All it’s known for

is a bad habit; to you, to most.

I remember I was 13 when I started doing the same

thing, just in a different way...

One difference between our self-mutilation is that the proof

of mine was visibly seen while yours was internal.

But, I was the one who needed help, not you.

I remember when I was 15 when you realized I kept

my bad habit...

The pain in your eyes through all the tears you let out

begging me to stop, reminded me of mine when I asked you

to do the same.

So I tried...for you, I tried to quit and I did for a few months

thinking you’d do the same for me

Now I’m 17 with the same bad habit, but to others it could be a

serious issue, but you think I stopped...

I did, for a bit. Three months clean and I’ll always blame myself for

being the reason you keep your habit

Maybe one day we could help each other quit for good, but

for now I won’t ask for any help and neither will you.

I’m sorry I believed you’d do such a thing for me when I was

seven and thinking you’d still try for me now.

Even with the words of hate flowing out of my mouth towards

you, you’re too deaf from the little butt calling out your name

every hour to hear it in my voice that I mean the complete

opposite. I love you and wish not to lose you at a young age,

but I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree...

Author's Note

Please feel free to leave a review and any questions. I'm open and love getting feedback. Thank you for reading

Reviews

[Lucien Maier]

this is layered very well. It has many levels of depth. good work

[JLily98]

Thank you so much! It truly means a lot to me