I'm Tired, Mother
April 9, 2018

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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.