Today is my mother's birthday,
I did not wish her;
Don't freak out,
I didn't forget either.
How can you wish someone "happy birthday" when all they have you was sadness and death.
Death,
I used to look for ways to die.
Because my mother told me this:
"You are worthless;
You deserve to die;
Take the knife and slit your wrists;
Even the knife won't cut you"
The knife,
That I used to cut meat with,
Was the knife I used to cut myself.
*****,
Dad's favorite alcohol.
Was the alcohol I used to "cleanse my wounds"

I can't seem to wish her for happiness or bad luck.
I kept forgiving her,
She kept hurting me.
She is the only one that triggers my anxiety.
All her accusations she hurled on me still pokes my heart.

Few years later,
I am not worthless,
I do not deserve to die
The knife sure did hurt unlike my recovery from a world you pushed me into.

The problem is, I needed a mother.
Which was you, I needed you.
But you wasn't interested in anything I did.