Weight I Can’t Lift

Weight I Can’t Lift

Weight I Can’t Lift

I am the shadow that clings to your feet,
The stone in your path, the ache in your seat.
Each day you rise, I pull you down,
I’m the reason your smile’s become a frown.

I see your shoulders bend from my weight,
Your hands worn thin from carrying fate.
I don’t deserve the love you give,
I’m sorry I’ve taken more than I live.

I’m so sorry for being this way,
A burden you carry every day.
I hate myself for the life I’ve become,
A broken child, a thankless son.
I’m the anchor that drags you to the deep,
The wound that denies you peaceful sleep.

I hear your sighs, and they echo my shame,

Every tear you’ve cried burns me in flame.

I’m not the child you raised to be strong,

I’m the mistake that’s lingered too long.

I see your kindness, but I feel your pain,

A silent cry you don’t explain.

And though I wish I could set you free,

I’m chained to this guilt, this misery.

I’m so sorry for being this way,

A weight on your heart that won’t go away.

I hate myself for how much I take,

A hollow shell, a lifelong mistake.

I’m the reason your joy feels so far,

A fading light, a collapsing star.

If I could rewind, I’d give you my best,

A child who brings pride, not this unrest.

But I’m stuck in this skin, this broken form,

And you bear the brunt of this endless storm.

I don’t blame you, I never could,

You’ve done more for me than anyone would.

It’s me I hate, this life I waste,

The guilt that lingers, the bitter taste.

Mama, I’m sorry for being this way,

A burden you carry every day.

I hate myself for the scars I leave,

A life you bear but don’t believe.

I’m the shadow you wish would let go,

A weight you’ve lifted but can’t overthrow.

I love you, Mama, though I break your back,

I’d give you the world if I could give it back.

But all I have is a hollow heart,

I’m sorry for tearing your world apart.

Mama, I’m sorry for being me…