I now know
Why little girls crying
Into teddies say they're
Dying.
Now I know that none of
My songs of heart-

Break were real. I had
No idea.
None.

It's like holding your breath
When you know that that car is
Not going to
Stop.

It's the chill down your neck when
You learn that somebody
Just like you
Passed away. Suddenly.

It's the feeling of knowing you're
Losing your grip on the roof of
A burning
Skyscraper. Air.

A soldier, a landmine.
Looking down to see
That your body
Is broken.
Broken.

I now know why country music
Is so close to God at all times.
Why amputees grieve over
Lost limbs.
Why girls cry and boys drink.

It's going to bed, certain that  
The sun will not
Rise in the morning.

I haven't talked to you
In close to a whole calendar year.
How could you possibly
Understand how I feel?

Entropy--
The gradual decline into disorder.
Deterioration--
The process of becoming progressively worse.
Decline--
The gradual and continuous loss of strength, numbers, quality, or value.

Recover--
Return to a normal state of health, mind, or strength.
Ameliorate--
Make something bad or unsatisfactory better.
Wellbeing--
The state of being comfortable, healthy, or happy.

When I struggle
To stand up straight
After getting out of bed
In the morning,
When I keep dropping
Everything my fingers
Curl around yet can't seem
To keep a firm grip on,
When my eye twitches
Uncontrollably throughout the day
And especially at night
While I'm watching TV,
When I lay my head down
Finally at the end of another long day
And hope to slip away
To Slumberland unimpeded,
When I **** awake at 4 a.m.
With sweat crawling down my back
And the scent of fear in my nostrils
All because of memories,
I think to myself,
"I am sick and tired of drama.
I am sick and tired of being depressed."

Would you go back in time
To do or say something different?

Yes.
Even if it didn't change
The course you chose in these last years,
I would do Thanksgiving '09 over again.

Actually, I would redo only one moment:
We were standing in the hallway
Of the house we'd been forced to rent
When all our fortunes had been lost.
You were storming out to greet me
With a frosty, icy glare.
My hand was raised in salutation,
My eyes were both eager and wary.
Before I knew what was happ'ning,
My glasses lay shattered on the floor.
Without a second's hesitation
Or look or exclamation,
I had run out the front door.

I would that I could redo that moment!
And this is how I'd hope it goes:
We meet in the hallway,
And your fist comes towards my face.
But before you can punch
My 21 year old visage,
My hand will stop you
And force you to look into my eyes.
Then I will say, "Mom, I love you."

Maybe your eyes would soften.
Maybe your heart would too.
Maybe you'd choose to try again
At being daughter, wife, mother.
Maybe you'd choose to stay.

And maybe history can't be amended,
Rewritten, retold, or changed.
I just wish my last words
Could've been "I love you."