We fought for the 5th time this week.
I don't know what sparked your yelling,
But whatever it was-
It started a raging fire right in between us.
Your searing seething words are meant to be hurtful.
Like the fake apologies of a middle school girl,
They are meant to make me feel guilty.
And the words do hurt- but it's not shame that burns.
Am I horrible? Am I selfish?

We fought for the 10th time this month.
Our tear enducing "conversations" come in like the tide.
When the tide is low, you swallow your anger, your pride
Deep within you, but the waves always roll back in, and
With them comes your disgust- at me, at your own kin.
And you trap me on the shore, and force me to lie there-
Lie there and take your tidal wave words like the ultimately
Helpless, ultimately powerless daughter that I am.

One day we'll wake up, and this will all be over.
The rising seas will quench the raging fires, and
We'll be mother and daughter again.
But until then- you can't even look at me?
Until then- I can't even really speak to you. I talk
But I never speak, you listen but you never hear.
Until then I'll keep going to bed with out knowing what I did,
Keep smiling with sad eyes, because everything is alright.