my mother didn't want to hurt me,
but she was broken.
her brokenness cut into me
and made me bleed.
she didn't know how to love,
or at least how to love me.
it didn't matter that she hurt me;
I just wanted her to be sorry.
she said that she loved me,
but it often felt like hate.
when I finally had enough and tried to be free,
she looked at me with desperation and cried,
"you are abandoning me!"
so, I stayed and I suffered,
and I did my best to love her.
as a women, I have so much empathy
for my mother, but as a daughter, I have so much anger.
YOU ARE READING
Things We Wish We Had Said Or Did.
PoetryI take requests and I am getting back into writing books. I'm starting this one cause I love reaching out to others who are dealing with the same problems. Leave a life and continue to read my book
