Mom.

Sometimes, Late at night I think of you. I think of us. I think what we could of kept if I had just been a better child. Was it my fault? I don't know. Do i still blame myself? How could I not? Why did you walk out on me? I have so many questions for you. But everytime I get to talk to you, I deny. And I don't even know why. I bottle up my feelings because I don't wanna hurt you or tell you how I really feel. God, I hate you for what you've done to me Mom. But I can't help but love you. It hurts me to say I will never love any of my Step-Moms as much as I love you. I'll never tell anyone that tho. Never. I couldn't. They'll hate me.