You were supposed to teach me how to make my coffee
so that it was sweet enough,
and how to stand up straight and look proud.
How to keep my room clean
and not procrastinate my homework.
How to tell the difference between a guy who loves me
and one who wants my body.

But mostly, aren't moms supposed to teach how to love?

All you taught me was how to cry so no one could hear,
and how to practice pain on myself
so that when my sister used me as her punching bag
I could show her that it didn't hurt.
How to turn my music up so loud I couldn't hear your insults.
How to fake a smile so that you don't get the satisfaction
of knowing you ******* me up.
And you never taught me how to forgive. So I don't.