it’s two am
and i can’t sleep
so i’ll take a shower
try to let the hot
water wash away
the words that ring
constantly like
alarms in my ears

i want to drink
to forget
that i am a
selfish
disappointment
to forget that
my mother
doesn’t love me

and i might spend
my whole life looking
for what she didn’t
have to give me

being told i’m doing
a good job from my boss
learning how to keep a home
neat from my best friend
advice that has my best interests
at heart from women who care
and from him all i ask is love
that isn’t conditional

and i’ll teach myself
to finish a job once
it’s started and to
never rely on other people
to keep money
in my bank account

and i’ll never say i love
someone and then let
my words and actions
prove me wrong

my hair is wet now
and heavy on my back
i have hair like she did
when she was young
and it’s weighed down
dripping with expectations
of who someone
with such hair should be

i don’t belong here
in this house
this home that isn’t
mine and never was

home is where you
go at the end of the
day to feel safe
where others aren’t
out to trample on
your emotions

home is where you
sleep with ease
but here i barely
even sleep
not knowing if tomorrow
will bring a tornado
or if the sun will rise
peaceful on the meadows

the question keeps
me up and even though
i know the answer it’s the
hardest one to face

why doesn’t
she love me?

because she isn’t capable of
giving what she never had
and it isn’t a me problem
it’s a her problem

that’s the answer
i know but i can’t
make myself
understand it

so i’ll rinse my hair
dry off and climb
back in bed hoping
tomorrow will make sense

but when tomorrow comes
so does the reminder

i’m alone now
and i have to
take care of
myself now

that’s my only problem
not the fact she
doesn’t care
that’s a her problem
and my reactions are
a me problem
and despite what she
tells me i’ve never been
a problem only a
problem to her