The woman I’ve fought so hard to be.
She looks through me like I’m not there,
Rejecting my truth with a cold, blank stare.

Her love feels distant, sharp as a knife,
Cutting away at my chosen life.
I reach for her, but her arms stay closed,
Her heart a door forever opposed.

Love me as I am—before it’s too late,
Before my voice drowns in the weight of hate.
See me whole, my body, my soul,
But instead, you cast me in a broken role.

A bird whose wings you clipped at the start,
A daughter unloved, breaking apart.
Fading and fractured, yet I still plea:
Mom, why can’t you just love me?