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Description
On this date you replicate and retaliate how I have become so paranoid about you.
We sit across each other, mother and child in the living room, it's 10 past two and my body begins to shrink.
My heart starts like a bullet train, afraid of what words you'll hurl at me like bricks. But alas I shouldn't write down my feelings.

You've hurt me, my mother Athenia.
You have hit me, choked me, hit me over the head with your car keys until I was sobbing, and crying with your pain.
You've stopped over the years but my fears and paranoia grew with your gigantic, humongus ego about how great of a god-given gaurdian you claim to be.

Because of this I flinch when someone raises their hand.
The long, drawn-out marks on my left arm curving, intertwining and rearranging into a pained double helix like face to show the fate you claim I should regret because of what you've said and done.
Because of you the movie "Mommy Dearest" is relatable.

Why do I pretend to love you and pretend to still care about you after what you've done?
All the gaslighting you've done could light a city.
All the fake tears you've shed could drown that city and murder the flames.

My definition of abuse is this: When a parent, or anyone treats someone else cruely without a place or origin or benefit on their behalf.
You say my spoons are rust and my tears are fake; the fact that I, cannot clean my godforsaken room is some sort of burden to you that hurts.
Mommy, you've broken your child. Claiming you love them but alas, when they say their cannot talk to someone you mock them with the last words of your toxic tongue.

Mommy, you are virus to my body, coming in from the outside and tricking, teasing and falsely telling my white blood cells that they are good, when all around knows the truth but does not choose to say anything.

Mommy, why do you choose to abuse me?
Mommy, when will you stop?

Description
On this date you replicate and retaliate how I have become so paranoid about you.
We sit across each other, mother and child in the living room, it's 10 past two and my body begins to shrink.
My heart starts like a bullet train, afraid of what words you'll hurl at me like bricks. But alas I shouldn't write down my feelings.

You've hurt me, my mother Athenia.
You have hit me, choked me, hit me over the head with your car keys until I was sobbing, and crying with your pain.
You've stopped over the years but my fears and paranoia grew with your gigantic, humongus ego about how great of a god-given gaurdian you claim to be.

Because of this I flinch when someone raises their hand.
The long, drawn-out marks on my left arm curving, intertwining and rearranging into a pained double helix like face to show the fate you claim I should regret because of what you've said and done.
Because of you the movie "Mommy Dearest" is relatable.

Why do I pretend to love you and pretend to still care about you after what you've done?
All the gaslighting you've done could light a city.
All the fake tears you've shed could drown that city and murder the flames.

My definition of abuse is this: When a parent, or anyone treats someone else cruely without a place or origin or benefit on their behalf.
You say my spoons are rust and my tears are fake; the fact that I, cannot clean my godforsaken room is some sort of burden to you that hurts.
Mommy, you've broken your child. Claiming you love them but alas, when they say their cannot talk to someone you mock them with the last words of your toxic tongue.

Mommy, you are virus to my body, coming in from the outside and tricking, teasing and falsely telling my white blood cells that they are good, when all around knows the truth but does not choose to say anything.

Mommy, why do you choose to abuse me?
Mommy, when will you stop?