Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Dear mother, seed of my existence, you make me feel pain as though if I die today, you'd celebrate.
Your words cut through me, Daily, on repeat, Echoing to the very depths of my soul Scattered across the edges of the multiverse Squeezed into every empty space of me I need you - I need you To need less of me You're your own responsibility Why must I care for you, about you I have sacrificed things too.
Intent. Intended. Abandoned. Why must being forsaken hurt less just because it wasn't your intention? The sun will always rise from the east The dead will stay deceased Accepting what you did is the least You can do. I have sacrificed things too.
Slippers have grazed my face more than your hands Scratches from the wild, wild anger of home. I've only ever felt your touch when you lay me a hand Or when I apologise and you force me to go. I have no scars, cause you don't see them I have no pain, cause we don't show them We don't feel anything. If we look away, they will disappear So I stare, stare at you Stare through Never again Back to three Running, screaming Mother don't leave me. I still hear the screams in my nightmares Not mine, not yours, but hers The same one from your dreams Dreams you let me inherit despite knowing they'll hurt. I do feel everything.
Mother, mother, I don't know how to please you You hate everything I do, everything I don't do I must be close with you, but never be around you I must apologise when my words hurt you Yet you'll give me something to cry about when I fall sick Mother, mother, why must I please you When my existence was a decision you made? Why must I prove I deserve to be alive? Is it even worth it if I'm dying inside? I just want you to love me, I beg.
And in the heat of the moment, Each moment, moment of time I promise myself I can make it without you in this life But you've made that impossible, laughable I should be grateful you put a roof above my head. Alone. I'll never amount to more than being your own. And it pierces through my being Your words once again. Dear mother, seed of my existence, you make me feel pain as though if I die today, you'd celebrate.