A Letter to My Mother
These scars on my wrist are for you,
I hope I made you proud.
It didn’t hurt like I thought it would,
I didn’t scream out loud.
I used a belt last night,
but stepdad found me out.
I couldn’t tie it around my neck,
I never was a girl scout.
I’m sorry sixty pills
were not enough to kill myself.
I’m sorry that I let your words
affect my mental health.
I promise you one day
I’ll properly end my life.
Next time I attempt suicide
I’m gonna do it right.
I’m trying not to fail so much
I hope that you can see.
I’m doing this all for you, please –
say you’re finally proud of me.
By Sade Andria Zabala
Sade Andria Zabala is a twenty-three year old Filipina surfer and nomad residing in Denmark. She has a degree in Mass Communications and is pursuing higher education to become a certified English teacher abroad. She has self-published one collection of poems called “Coffee and Cigarettes” and is now working on her second book “War Songs” to be released this fall 2015.
In her spare time she likes to eat words, drink sunlight (or wine), and question her own existence. You may reach her at http://surfandwrite.tumblr.com.