Mother.

I become her afterthought.
Noticing how the ones I love are either hurting me, or letting it happen.
Feeling stuck.
She is scared that if I leave, I might not miss her.
I haven't any reason to.
The only parts worth missing are long lost,
somewhere in my childhood.

Not even allowed a chance to explain.
That I matter.
Because apparently to her, I don't.
And I pray that God keeps me alive long enough to escape.
Because now, like every attempt before, is not the right time.
To be free.