What Will It Takes

Mommy what will it take, To make time for me, Building sandcastles at the sea? Maybe I must light the house on fire, To get your attention and love I desired. Or rob a bank, give you all the money, To pay the bills, so you can stop complain, You are tired of hitting the tills. I can cut my wrist ‘till it bleed, Then maybe you will see, I am real and not just part of your to do list. But also exist. I am tired of these lies, I have to hide. “Mommy can’t come to my concert or parent meeting, Because she is away for business. She promised next time she will come, I am her priority number one.”