Poem: a dying plant trying to bare fruit

I can survive
But I haven't lived a day since the day you left my sights.
Living was never a thing I did.

I always just knew how to survive.

You saw past the party girl and the bottom of the bottle I call home.
You saw the burn makers that were so scarred in my soul.
The wounds infect on little girl behind closed doors.
But I knew how to survive.

I was raised that way.
By the truest survivor.
But that a story for another time.

This is about my misguided love for you.
Was it even you i loved?
Or the me you made me into.
Build a girl up just to watch her fall.
I'm sure that was never your intention.
That is just how this love story played out.

But here I am the little survivor.
A misguided youth thinking she could save those around her.
A dying plant still trying to bare fruit to feed the ones she loved.

Never really living but always ending up on top.

Because when you don't care where you end.
There is only up.