She tucked in my shirt
and patted my head,
“Always be yourself”
was the first thing she said.

She painted my lips
and powdered my nose,
called me a daisy,
but wanted a rose.

She looked at my shoes
and gave me her heels,
noticed my body,
restricted meals.

She ignored my work
chastised my art,
gathered my drawings,
ripped them apart.

She decided my plans,
outlined each day,
gave me one order -
“don’t disobey.”

She tucked in my shirt
and patted my head,
“You’re nothing without me”
was the last thing she said.