Left at Rockbottom

I walk into my mom’s room, filled with fear, As nausea is bubbling in my core. I say nothing, it’s already clear; I took a b’ttle of pills just like before. Tears fall from my eyes and drip from my chin, As screaming insults fall from my mom’s lips. She yells, “Get in the car,” and the pr’cess begins. She cont’nues to yell like she’s read’ng a script. She says she’s not staying for this bullsh’t this time. With that, she left—no “I love you,” no goodbye. I’d never felt more alone in my life. In the weeks that followed, I did nothing but cry. In those three weeks, I only felt like a problem, Reminding me, my own mom left me at rock bottom.