I'm Only Human

You Told Me

You told me I was born to be wild. 

As if the mind of a child isn't impressionable. 

You told me I was meant to be free. 

That whatever I wanted to be I could obtain as long as I worked for it. 

You told me that I was strong. 

That's why I keep my hair long and keep going on. 

You told me that I was pretty. 

As if your own pity could save me from this world. 

You told me that I'd grow up to be famous. 

As if an ignoramus like me could do something like that. 

You told me that the best thing in life is love. 

As if you know of the feelings that one word can invoke. 

You told me that you loved me the most.

But now you're a ghost and I don't know what to think anymore.

Because almost everything you told me were lies. 

As if little spies were watching your every move. 

You didn't tell me that I would feel caged. 

That he'd be outraged every time I tried to speak my feelings. 

You didn't tell me that I would feel trapped. 

That he would've snapped if it weren't for his parents. 

You didn't tell me that I would feel weak. 

That my life would be so bleak I wouldn't want to live it anymore. 

You didn't tell me how ugly I would be. 

That the things that make me would be so catastrophic.

You didn't tell me that I'd be unknown.

That everything I condone would mean nothing, and nobody would see it.

You didn't tell me that love brings pain.

That standing in the rain would feel better than confronting them. 

You didn't tell me that you'd leave so soon.

So now I'm stuck with the moon as my only source of company. 

...

I miss you, Mom.