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Mother,
forgive me,
but there’s no point
in convincing me
that he still cares
or that he, even for once,
cared about me.

Explain to me:
why is it that his eyes
would always be
full of love
and passion
until they would glance at me
and suddenly turn cold?

Tell me:
why he never entered
my suffocating room
while I was a crying mess,
falling apart
between my bedsheets?

Convince me
that I’m not
Just a mere existence to him,
Just a not-understood wreck
Just a thing he would touch
while passing by.

I have wounds that I licked
and healed
all by myself.
And I have scars that are still
hiding his name.

And although I am used
to remedy alone,
there are still some
desperately waiting
for his touch.

I would rather feel
like just a step-sister
that I am,
than being treated
like a complete stranger
or even nothing,
nothing at all.

I wish my brother loved me.
This is for you, big brother.
Grace May 2019
You’ve given me life
And raised me on your own
Because my father’s in jail
And you always felt alone

When I was young,
You paid attention
You gave me love,
And so much affection

As I grow older older
You only grow colder
Brush me off your shoulder
Then blame me as our lives molder

You tell me I’m selfish
And call me a liar
Your love is my one wish
My deepest desire

I crave your approval
But I’m never enough
All I get is reproval
And I can’t take it

I truly believed
You’d be relieved
And you wouldn’t grieve
If you lost me

Because my whole life
You’ve shown little respect
All I did was hurt
And all you did was neglect

You saw what was happening
As the man you married put his hands on me
And yet, you just stood there
You watched as I was beat

When you had found out
That I was harming myself
All you did was shout
And said all I wanted was attention

When in reality, I did it to feel
Because your neglect numbed me
I wanted to know I was real
And you told me you hated me

You said there must be something wrong with me
To need that much attention
So you agreed to take me to therapy
Where I was diagnosed with depression

You stormed out of there
Saying “you have no reason to be depressed”
But you didn’t know me at all
All the feelings I’d repressed

How could you not see
What you were doing to me
All I wanted was to flee
I wanted to be free

I sunk into a hole
Of darkness and pain and anguish
It swallowed me whole
And you left me alone

Then one day you said
“Why don’t you talk to me?”
And I said “Because every time I try
You never listen, just scream.”

“That’s *******, Grace!”
You screamed in my face
I said, “This is my point.”
All I did was disappoint

No matter what I did
I wasn’t good enough
No matter how hard I worked
You made everything rough

“Mother knows best”
I don’t know about that
It took me so long to be happy
And this is a fact

You didn’t try
You made me say goodbye
To the few people who cared
You made me feel scared

I didn’t feel safe
You’re my biggest fear
At night I’d lay awake
Wondering “Why am I here?”

I reached rock bottom
And once I was there
I knew how to dig myself out
It made me aware

I stopped trying so hard for you, Mother
And I instead tried for me
And since then I’ve been thriving
I’m finally on my feet

Because after years of falling
And nobody calling
I knew what I needed
And that I wasn’t conceited

I wish I could say
My mother helped in some way
But she just dragged me down
At the end of the day

So I believe
That I know best
What’s best for me
Now I can get some rest

I can now be happy
With those who stand by me
And for them I’m so grateful
I don’t have to feel shameful
void Dec 2018
my mom doesn't want me. she'd rather no daughter at all than one who is "sick". she says i make her life harder and that she is embarrassed by me. she says she is jealous of "normal kids". i dont blame her, i am too. i hate being "sick". but she didn't phrase it as if she wished i didn't suffer, oh no, she phrased it as if she wished she didnt have me.
void Dec 2018
Mother, Father, where are your heads?
Swimming with ignorance and memories that don’t exist,
Engulfed by your self-delusions, so remiss
Could you tell me: do you know your kids?
Did you know they’re busy avoiding their eyelids;
Scavenging wretchedness for momentary bliss,
Scouring for a second of relief in a static abyss?
But you’re too busy using the methods you forbid

Mother, Father, we scream in silence:
Do you know mercy, or are we to live in blind compliance?
SangAndTranen Mar 2018
Go to sleep, it’s past midnight.
And watch your nightmares come to life.
It’s a sick freak show,
Heck we should know,
Mother get me a knife.

This house smells of stale liquor.
The poison blood, it runs deeper.
Take my hand,
It’s so cold,
And soon will be colder and stiffer.

I watch the bruises bloom and fade.
But the shame – it will never change.
I’m always at war,
Face to the floor,
Father, this is what you made.

Drag me down and yank me under.
It feels like home in a whirl of thunder.
Will the sun shine?
Will you reach me in time?
Or back to misery plunder.

Vicious circle, round and round.
Get up, slammed down, get up, down.
I’ll hide amidst torture,
As least it’s familiar,
And I promise not to make a sound.

I see the needle, the stumble in your step.
Eyes roll back, warmth up your neck.
We are all insecure,
How can you be sure?
You’ll die if you overstep.

Put me in a blinding daze,
I don’t want to feel the pain.
Yes, I am running,
Coward? Maybe.
I tried to burn a flame.

I’m not made of china, I don’t easily break.
I am purely liquified so don’t make that mistake.
I won’t hold together,
Unless you cage me in,
Come and get me Lucifer, how much more can I take in?
So dark, as always.
Trina Jan 2018
she
She's expected to be strong,
She's expected to be the glue,
To the broken glass,
She's not expected to cry,
She's not expected to scream.

But in reality,
She's weak,
She's the broken glass,
She cries almost every night,
She holds in her screams,
But her mind is screaming.

She's expected to be nice,
By Almost every person she meets,
She's expected to be more than that,
She's expected not to be rude.

But in reality,
She's not as nice as much anymore,
She avoids people more than she should,
She's says she “okay” though,
just Not as she should

She's expected to be there for her friends,
She's expected to listen and give advice,
Not to complain or need advice,
To have the perfect life and relationships.

But in reality,
She's drifting away,
She listens, but not fully,
She needs to complain sometimes but never dose,
she is falling apart.

She's expected to have the perfect family,
No divorce, no lies, no backstabbing,
Nobody trying to hurt anyone,
No abuse, no fighting, no drugs

But in reality,
Her parents are divorced, her mom was beat,
sister *****, dad wants nothing to do with her,
her mom is married to someone new, who has more kids that is put over her, her mom was taken from her for a year and came back a completely different person, her mother steals, Her bio-father is a compulsive liar, her sisters put her down everyday, Her biological dad ***** her sister, He tried getting her mom to get rid her.

She's expected to be close to her sisters,
No fighting, no yelling, Glued to the hip,
Inseparable.

But in reality,
They fight constantly, She can't stand them,
They're the reason, Why she's so sad now,

She's expected to not cut, She's expected to not have scars,
Not to be depressed, Not to be addicted to such a wretched thing.

But in reality,
She's been cutting for years,
And was almost two years clean,
Because she wanted people to stop jugeding.

She has scars all around her thigh,
more on her wrist.
She's addicted to cutting, She's itching to,
But her mother doesn't think she is,
“If you really wanted to die you would be gone
You only do it because you want attention, and lashing out.”
That's what her mother says.

Little do they know,
That their perfect little girl
Is slipping away,
Soon, She'll will be gone, and they will miss her.
She will be expected to come back but she won’t.
White Owl Jul 2017
When I was younger we moved from place to place. I remember,  even from a young age,  worrying about where we would lay our heads after we left this place. I remember yall being at home a lot but not being around us. I remember you both going into rooms with people,  that I met for the first time,  and you all spending hours together with a locked door. Sometimes afterwards, I remember staying up late doing crafts and playing games until the clock hit 3am. I remember being able to do pretty much anything I wanted to do. I remember waking up crying and finding comfort that you both where still awake. I remember the house smelling bad. I remember you telling me to lie to social workers about things. Like if there was powders in my house or if I have smelt any bad smells or even about how yall act.

It wasn't until I started getting older that I realized that you both were on drugs. I started to realize that the reason you both where at home is because you did not have a job. I realized that is why we had to move so many times. I realized that you went to your room to hide the drugs from us. We knew they were bad. I realized the new friends that mommy and daddy made were not friends at all but drug dealers and inhibitors.

It took even longer for me to realize that pain pills and maraujana were not the only drugs you where doing. I began to pay attention in class when they spoke to us about drugs. I knew that both of your reactions didn't add up. One day I found a **** pipe wrapped up and hidden in plain sight. I can still feel the anger that rolled out of me that day. I remember wanting to bash it across the wall and walk out. I knew that I'd get hurt by dad if I did that. I walked away and left it.

That's when I realized that the reason you where still up when I woke up from bad dreams is because you could not go to sleep. That when you wanted me to lie about any white substances that is why.

I am not angry at either of you. I am thankful. I have pushed myself. I will continue to push myself. Not only for myself but for my future family.

And mom I am proud of how far you have come in the last 5 years.
Personal mom and dad separate to follow
Megan Foukes Jul 2016
My mother asked:
"Write me a poem for your old lady,
So I can hang it on the fridge."


I couldn't tell her no-- how could I say no,
To my mother?
My mother and I sit across each other
In this corner jazz cafe on 31st Street.
She sips her latte as I scramble to write some words for her
On this napkin.
Occasionally she looks up at me and stares with her green eyes
Staring, staring staring at me--this paper, her coffee.

I don't even think what to write for her,
I just write, write write---and write
The poem that will be on her fridge door of 30 years and 9 months.
Here is the poem I wrote for my dear mother of 57
I lay it on her lap and bolt out the door without hesitation and smile with content:

*You're as dark as your coffee,
And cruel as the winter wind.
I'm not your child.
Langston Hughes inspiration. Not too familiar with beat poetry, but I figured I'd make a small attempt.
Brianne Rose Apr 2016
United we Stand,
Divided we Fall,
But you can not divide No One at all.
Based off of tonight's events, father decided to basically call me a no one. so here ya go. criticism welcome
LoveLy Nov 2015
The day my home turned to a battlefield was the day my mom said I so to a man who tough she loved him is  worth less than dirt in her presence and less than that when she's gone. No lie I picked a side long before the war begun but it is still scary being the only one unarmed.
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