my mother is like the queen
she is the queen of everything
but in the sense that all that matters is reputation and
i am merely a means to an end.

i am the pawn on the chessboard
and she likes to play with her pawns carved out hollow,
brittle shells on the edge of breaking.
she likes the power of holding a fragile heart in her hands
to nurture and then destroy as she sees fit
for her own entertainment.

is it still my fault i turned out the way i am?