(via peetapockets)
(via edricdayne)
My mama tried to kill me when I was real little. She put a pillow over my face cause she cared more about herself than her little baby. She didn’t love me like a mama should love a little baby, and she was happy cause she thought she’d done it, and then I couldn’t grow into something better than she’d been had ever been. She hadn’t done it she didn’t send me back to him. She just made me sick made me not be for awhile but then I was. She was sad that I was and I always will be.