Your Creation
What am I?
The child of rumors and hatred.
What are you?
A drama queen that bore the nasty, gnarly rumors and hatred that gave birth to me.
So by you whispering "sweet" nothing's to others, I was formed.
I hate to say it, but I owe it all to you.
Maybe this all can be fixed; I doubt it though.
You were the nasty mother,
Chiding her innocent child for stealing that cookie,
For breaking that vase; though you knew that the child
Never actually did any of these things.
So the mother decides to verbally abuse the child.
What happens?
The child grows up miserable,
With that exact same seed of bitterness the mother planted in them.
You were the mother,
I, the child.
And now look how I've turned out.
Well I really must say, you've created quite a piece of work.
You must be very proud.
Because I'm just like you mother,
Just like you.
I try to ignore, to forget,
But every time I try, I get yet another reminder.
All I am is just your creation.
You are the creator,
I am your Frankenstein.
And everyone else?
Your puppets.
So watch me as I make my way through the world,
With you forever implanted in the back of my mind.
You might think you can ruin me.
But just watch.
I will grow up strong because of this.
I will eventually forget.
I will eventually be confident,
I will be successful.
I will eventually ignore all the rumors and talk.
But until then,
I have to learn to move on.
Until then,
You are still in control.
And I hate every minute of it.
