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a space for youth writing on mental health & identity
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 The mother is sullen. Sleepless nights drew maps around her eyes. Enervative months
bulged sacs around her waist. Her fingers tremble from the night before. She feels exactly where her muscles flexed, where her joints folded, and where her nails clawed deep. She’s losing focus, so her husband releases it for her.  Through the dawn break,
Do you see my silhouette dancing? My frail vein burns irresistible, pains grow obvious. I once looked up to you, your gentle taps on my curled up stem put me to sleep. You stood by, holding on my callow leaves. |
