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Oct 2020
Dear Mum,

You gave birth to me so you are my Mum.
You raised me so you are my Mum.
You taught me things so you are my Mum.
No matter what, you are my Mum.

You are my Mama
My Mutti
My Mother
and my Mum.

You make me feel bad and guilty.
You tell me what you bought for me and what you made me.
You criticize the way I look and control how much I eat.
You tell me when I gain weight and tell me not to cheat.
You say I am no good, when I do something wrong.
But you tell me you love me and that you only want me to be strong.

Maybe I have stopped knowing
What the meaning of love is.
Maybe this is just your way of showing
Thinking I'd give you cheers and happy tears.

But you tell me not to cry.
It makes You look weak.
You tell me to **** it up
And not to speak.

Whenever something happens you stand by.
You only watch while I apply.
Concealer and foundation to cover up.
On my skin another layer of makeup.

Covering up the signs of sleepless nights
Not showing to the outside what really happens at night.
The blue and purple spots on my skin
Caused by my own will and sinn.

You wonder why my brother never calls
Calling him ungrateful and starting new brawls.
Not with him but with me
Hating that he is living carefree.
Free from your words and actions
And free from your reactions.

You say that you have it oh so tough.
And that we give you a time that is oh so rough.
You always awake my sympathy
Making me a prisoner while you hold the key.

We should be grateful to have a mother like you.
That we’re not going through the same things you went through.
You are so much better than your own mother
And you most definitely are better than your own father.

You might not do the ***** work yourself.
But still I feel ***** hearing your words.
Manipulating me left and right
Making me shiver and cry at night.

I have nothing left for you than feeling sorry.
You could’ve done things different but instead you chose to worry.
Worry about your image and what people say
Too focused on having the perfect family image to portray.

In a few years I will be leaving this place you call home
I’ll finally be free and leave you to figure out your own syndrome.
And one thing I know for sure is that my life
Will leave you not being a mother but merely a wife.
Written by
Caroline Petersen  18/F/Denmark
(18/F/Denmark)   
353
 
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