If I had the upper hand, would she listen and understand?
These words are all too real, and the scars they leave don't seem to heal.
Mother, won't you lie to me? Say you love and admire me?
Won't you ever ever be sober? Or Is that mother Gone. Dead. Over?
Daddy's not mentally there, but you don't seem to care;
That I turn your words to wounds, because I can't change to make things better.
The cuts only get deeper and the tears only get wetter.
I don't hide my scars, Daddy, so why do you hide from them?
I didn't choose this independence, It's what I've learned to come from.
