death comes in all shapes and sizes

and I'm sorry mom

I'm really really sorry

the clouds are mourning us

and the rain doesn't feel the same anymore.

the house is destructive;

anxiety slicing into the room

like a razor blade kissing skin.

life really isn't fair,

and my prayers always start with,

"Why?"

and the tears have become a necessity,

without them,

something is wrong,

and I'm sorry mom

I'm really really sorry.