Why does it have to be so hard, it’s not fair.
It’s never fair and it doesn’t ever seem to go away.
It shouldn’t matter though because it’s only me.
It’s probably my fault somehow.
I don’t know how many more thoughts of reconciliation I can take before it breaks me completely.
I swear that I believe in strong families,
But I’m doubting that I can make mine that – church girl or not
Which I am not so much anymore.
If I walk away I’d feel that I’m missing out due to my own faults.
I tell myself they’re hers and are what is driving me away,
But it hurts to turn away for too long.
I live with sour pains and expressions,
Sometimes they turn to pity and I want to stand up
For her. Her actions knock me down again,
I remain left in the hurt.
It seems as if I’m struggling to dig my way out of the ground,
Trapped and my thoughts and feelings in submission, supressing.
If I can’t let go but I can’t hold onto what I never really had,
Then what’s next?
My bed is covered in dust because my head is still the same
And the girl that I was: broken still.

I feel a heavy weight burdening me
****** upon me by you, the one who should be lifting me up.
I’m tangled in steel spider webs that I think I want to leave,
But when I get the chance I change my mind due to fearing that it’s the wrong choice.
How did you manage to involve me so much while pushing me aside?
Right now I want to laugh although logically I should cry.
Because that’s what you’ve done to me;
You made sure your mentalism rubbed off on me,
Also making me think you’ll catch me when I fall even though you pushed me.
I keep pulling away from you and it seems like what you want,
But somehow (weather you mean to or not) you drag me to the starting line.
It’s a race that never ends and with no intention of a prize.
With you, my own mother,
I’m left running in circles around myself with tears filling my eyes.
Still you have done nothing to make me feel this way,
Although psychologically it’s as if you’ve done everything to make me stray.
And so I’m shattered down the middle while you’re still provokingly tapping on the glass.
It’s like the air always seems to be thickening now
Making it hard to breathe,
Because I am trying to guess your next destructive move.

I am stuck between being too scared to move,
And too scared to stay but probably just scared to lose the pain.
Stupid I know but so is all that she is and I might be just the same.
Breaking whatever’s in reach as I step a path I do not know
Or know too well.
The solid pain I feel inside is ever capable of echoing,
Like it never loses its meaning.