EC ( / )

Dear Mom,

You got what you always wanted.
Power. Control. Possession.
And how does it make you feel?
This is who you are Mom.
The dictator of my life.
But what sort of existence do you expect me to have
What was that?
“You were more grown up when you were 5.”
So you point, you cackle, you laugh.
You criticize me for every move I make.
You bring out the worst in me.
I hate having to see myself in the mirror.
Knowing the reflection I see staring back is so similar to you 27 years ago.
And the way they remind me.
As if I can’t hear those gossiping rumors being spread, constantly.
Like I have nothing better to do.
When you deafen me with your loud outspoken voice.
I want to shout, I want to scream.
But your hand is over my mouth.
I have to sit here listening to you, with no intent of acting on your words.
What’s amazing is that it all sinks in, so very deeply.
I take every single letter of each word to heart.
Because I know that I am the burden you load around each day.
But I love you. Because I care.
I know I don’t show it, or tell you enough.
That I would miss you if you weren’t around.
But we hurt each other so much. For our words speak much louder than our actions.
The pain we feel, an everlasting broken bond between us.
I feel paralyzed.
Too stupid to mend the past, and compromise, adapt to each other’s living.
Likewise, I’ve heard your words countless times before.
And you think I need some discipline, well I have my share.
Now I’ve been sent to my room, I’ve been sat on a chair.
And I’ve held my tongue, I didn’t plug my ears.
No, I got a good talking to.
And now I don’t know why but I still try to smile,
When they talk to me like I’m just a child.
Well, I’m not a child.
No. I am much younger than that…

User Rating: 5 / 5 ( 0 votes )

Other poems of CORDOVA (6)

Comments (0)

There is no comment submitted by members.