"You dress like a slut."
Yes, I can see it crystal clear now.
Mum, you were just jealous. I said it. Jealous.
Because my lips were crimson and it stung
your eyes. And I had charm, guts, cheeky grin.
All you never had.
"Go to the streets and sell yourself, you whore."
I. The whore? Because my top was tight.
And the hips you gave me, swayed when I walked.
"Your butt is so fat, look at you."
I wore what your shame was as pride. And the feline
liner didn't help with the disgust on your face
That disdain you never tried to hide.
You tried bribing me with labels encrusted in gold.
In return for behaving the way you want, the good girl
"I spent so much on you, do as you are told."
Put a price on freedom, and told me it's how it works
No happiness can be bought with less than six figures
was your motto.
I was the anomaly in your schemed life
your controlled perfection, calculated to
hide the anxiety that hung loose. I yielded
to pleasure, you clung to your fears for your
life. So you snatched my breath, locked me up
to comfort your devils instead.
Cooking, cleaning, putting porcelain in place
Dusting, wiping, my every move was timed
"You should do it all, it's all your duty.
I did it all for you, now you for me."
I can see it now, I was no different to your
Equity funds and market shares. If I dip down
the streets and venom would be my end.
You didn't love me Mum, yes I said it.
You loved the idea of the
perfect daughter you controlled in your head.
Good. Innocent. Obedient. Nice.
I am sorry, Mum, but a bird gotta fly
Not to be suffocated, wings snapped, in a bed of lies.
So if you wake up one morning,
Don't ask me why I am gone
The way Dad walked out, 15 years ago, on that day.
To my mother