Broken Heart

A dark poem reflecting a woman's personal depression.

At a moment when blood was all you could see
I fought to survive, this new baby needs me.

To look into that tiny, little face and know
the kind of life he soon will sew.

Sometimes, it's scary, I find myself dreaming
I was back there again, so I could give up breathing.

I can't do enouph, and what I do isn't right
though I try non-stop, both day and night.

How selfish am I, to want to end my pain
yet leave them here, nothing they'd gain.

My heart and my mind can no longer survive
to endure this strife, but my body stays alive.

My children say, "we love you so much"
but sometimes it feels like it isn’t enough.

What kind of games, what kind of pain
has brought me here, my mind to strain.

Look at that face, at those fingers and toes
what kind of sick mind, would abandon those?

'God help me', I plee, from deep in my heart
make me see your will, at least just a part.

The part that will help me have a reason to stay
my mind is such a mess, what can I say?

I guess I'll sit here and wait for what comes
holding my baby, my broken heart hums.