Mother Dearest

Your words coat my spirit

Like trails of grime–

A backed up drain

Full of every touch you didn’t want

And the averted eyes of your mother.

Hairs tangled in a throat

Screaming for an end to silence

Mucked up

Muffled and muddled phrases

Tortured to no end.

You should know better,

But I’ve always felt older;

You should be better,

But you grew up so fast

You never aged at all.

Why am I the one responsible

When you were supposed to protect me?

Why do I feel guilty leaving you

When you never hesitated

To think of yourself first?

I understand,

But that doesn’t make it okay.

I understand,

But that doesn’t make it go away.