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

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.

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?

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?

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.

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.

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.