You were supposed to protect me.
Yet I never felt safe.
Even now, it's like I'm always reaching,
For what I've been taught, a mother should be.

Everything feels like a competition.
Everything feels like a race.
I can't share a single vulnerable moment,
Without you throwing it back in my face.

So I try communication.
I say you hurt me when you did this and that.
You'd think a mother would care to say sorry.
But you take it as a personal attack.

I know you say that you love me.
But part of love is caring how you make me feel.
All the hurt I wear draped on my body,
To you is never a big deal.

So I distance myself to protect what's left of me.
If that makes me selfish, ungrateful and cruel.
I will wear those names with dignity.
Because even in my hurt, I've still always tried to find common ground with you.
It's only brought on more pain.
The realization you'd never do the same.
You played the victim so long it's time you actually are.
So when you meet with your gossipy friends at the bar,
You can tell them what an ungrateful child you raised.
And bask in their sympathy, eat up their praise.
I'm sure the story you told them had some deep, deep holes.
Lies they could never trace.
Maybe you just can't admit it to yourself,
So it'd be silly for me to wait for you to admit it to my face.

This is on you. I'm aiming for peace and tranquility.
You pushed me away with your lack of accountability.
And letting go hurts me. It cuts deeply into me.
But there is a lightness now. I can finally be free.