I'm Tired, Mother
April 9, 2018
|
Poet_Anonymous
Sometimes it gets hard to breathe
Because my chest is filled
With the guilt and
The regret of the
Unwanted pain I've
Caused you.
We get in arguments,
Although not either of us
Try to show
A little empathy
For the other.
I've been a stubborn *****
And unfortuenly
I know that I have.
But as much as it seems
That I don't care
I do.
But I just don't know
How to show you.
You tell me ways
To show
That I care
And I try
I really do
But it seems that every
Time I do try
I ***** up and we
Argue once more.
Mother,
It gets hard,
To follow in your
Footsteps
Because every
footstep of yours
Is a footstep of shadows and agony for me,
With my mind and heart saying
In agreeance
"I don't want this."
It gets hard
Because although I know
You as my role model
As my idol
I also know
That I will never
Be anything more
Than a faint echo
Of the amazing woman you are.
It gets hard
To talk to you
Becasuse as much as I try
You never seem to understand
And you always say
That you've been through it before
But one flaw in that statement is
Dear Mother
Is that you may have been
Through the same struggles as mine
But you've never been through
It as me.
Try as you might,
But you will never be able to comprehend these
Thoughts running a wild in
My head
It gets hard mother
To paste a smile
on my procaine face
when we meet someone new
As they are always
commending how you
And Sister look alike
They rarely ever look at me
And say how
Similar you and I look
It gets hard, Mother
Because when people are
Comparing you and Sister
Or contrasting you and I
I am breaking in the background
And it gets hard to accept that I don't have anyone, anymore
That people can compare me too.
It gets hard, Mother
When I tell people my history
I tell the brave people
Who ask if Stepfather is Father
And when I say no,
Then they ask where Father is
And all I can say is "I don't know."
But the thing that breaks me the most
Is when, after I say that, that they
Look down, with pity on their face
They say their sorry
But I can tell that they aren't
But I dismiss it
making sure I don't show what I really feel
Because in actuality
I am crying inside
I always led pride and stubbornness show
When all I want to do is weep
What I have been holding in for so long.
I know that I am acting vain
That there are people out there
Who have it worse than I
But it gets hard, Mother
To square my shoulders and stand up straight
When I'd much rather roll into a ball
In the hideous corners of an inky black room
I really get tired, Mother,
Of pretending to be someone I'm not
I'm just tired, Mother, I really am.