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Dear mother, seed of my existence, you make me feel pain as thoughif I die today, you'd celebrate

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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.

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