My words

Spilling my soul, my mom will not read my poetry

My poetry is words sung from my soul,
The things I can not handle alone,
I dare not share them with family,
They hang their heads in shame,
They refuse to read ,
Afraid, that something morbid is wrong with me,
I only share with the faceless people I can not see,
My poetry comes from my broken heart,
It comes from the past,
And, slips through the cracks,
And, exsposes the hole truth of me.