I remember the T-shirt she bought me last summer. It still leaves a bitter taste in my mouth each time I peer over at it. How could a vile creature such as she pretend to love me so tenderly.
I remember, before I was convinced she needed to receive help, the great times we had. Maybe I was just blind. We used to go places, laugh, have a fun time, actually enjoy each other. Something changed, though. Perhaps it was me, just maturing and seeing the problems we had. Or maybe that's something else she caused and tricked me into think I was to blame. She started to yell, she said, "We were her only burden."
And no one noticed.
People right in front of you can see an altercation and so pitifully walk away in shame. Nothing offered, nothing received, I guess.
I hope she gets to an institution soon. A therapist might be able to help her. She sucked everyone nearby dry of funds and life. One day I'll be able to have full conversations with her, like a normal kid.
One day I'll get the mom I wanted.
YOU ARE READING
you are my psychotic meltdown
HorrorI've started venting into this. Some of these are just really funny poems I made to crack others up (or make 'me feel funky) but now I need somewhere to put that build up. Unclog the dam and it all flows out.
