My mother’s love is a burning house
It’s a white picket fence trampled in the dirt
My mother used to love us
She cradled my sister and I in her arms
She once told me she had a dream that we were both babies and she carried us one on each arm
My mother didn’t care if we got hurt
Only if it affected her in some way
She always talks about the “good old days”
Before we could talk before we could walk before we could give her our opinions
I know my mother loves me
Deep down in my soul I know she really does
I think in some deep hidden part of her she does feel bad for what she’s done to us
What she’s let happen to us
I love my mother but I don’t trust her anymore
I don’t trust her to make decisions for me
I don’t trust her to not let anyone ever hurt me
Because I know she just goes along with the crowd
When my mother’s feelings are hurt
She won’t talk to us
Even if all she’s hearing is the truth
Even if she’s heard it a million times played backwards
A broken record that she’s lived through
My mother doesn’t like the truth
It doesn’t paint her in a very pretty picture
She doesn’t want to talk about it  or think about it
And in some ways I understand that
But some things need to be talked about
Some things need to be out in the open
Before they burst and explode
And only people are left
Crying
My mother took care of us as babies
At least that’s what she said
We could see in pictures
Our earnest begging eyes
Staring up at her
Wanting more and more from her that she couldn’t give
I love my mother and through all of this, everything
I just want her to know that