You remind me of me,
Of my mother,
And our dark basement.

She was always angry at me,
For all that I did,
For all that I did not,
For all that she did,
And all that she did not.

She would catch me
And take out all her anger.
I was afraid of her,
A little child,
Frightened to death.

If I saw her furious
At anything, at anyone,
I would hide in that basement:
The place that haunted me,
Dark, where no one would go,
Where all the devils lived.
They still live there,
In my nightmares.

So yes, when you get angry,
Like my mother, you don’t strike me,
But you lash me with your words.

I don’t have that basement anymore.
But I escape.
I go silent. I leave.
I run into my unconscious,
A perfect replica of that basement,
Full of all the devils,
And their many new offspring
That the world cannot see
Except me.
I stay there
Until your storm has passed.

I am scared there. I am afraid.
I wish my mother had known it...
She never did.

And I wish you could help me
Break that basement.
But instead,
You are only narrowing it,
Pushing me deeper
Into its shadows.