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Carrie Wentzel May 2015
I want to leave so badly,
I want to crash my car,
**** myself,
Anything to get away.

I ******* up my life,
and mom is rubbing it in my face.
Yelling at me,
For something I can't fix anymore.

She says she's stressed,
But I'm suicidal,
And every time she pushes,
I'm closer to the edge.

The question no longer feels like
"if", but
I'll fall off.

First she says to stay,
To earn some money at my job,
Next she's angry,
Telling me to find a place and a new job.

She says I don't understand,
how to do something unpleasant,
yet I've talked to her,
and lived with her for years.

She needs to understand,
how to move on,
that a problem isn't a problem,
until you make it one.

She tells me I'm a free spirit,
that I should study I what I like,
Then yells at me,
for not doing it her way.

I want to live my way,
and she doesn't like that,
because it's not her way,
because it doesn't make sense to her.

She thinks she knows better,
but she just knows different.
When what she said was best hurt me instead,
She got angry, instead of rethinking.

I am too restless,
for her to hold me in her hand,
and I am too different from her,
for her to be my guiding figure any longer.

— The End —