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life

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sometimes I feel as if I am dying, knowing when that time comes I am not fighting spent most of my days feeling lonely no one understood me regardless of the sadness I kept on standing for that blatant display of boldness, I was pushed around and sometimes I was shoved to the ground my health was deteriorating a person can only take so much hating, for what I was sure of something I was waiting for every time I looked into my swollen eyes, the mirror told me I could not die tearful I asked my reflection why? "because you like pie" yes that was true, I do like pie why, I like pie so much I learned to bake and make filling, every time I was feeling bad, I went to the kitchen made crust and filled it with what I had, sat at the table with a knife in one hand a pen in the other it was either cut a piece share with my brother or smother our mother in her sleep