Mothers

Stalking, Creeping,

Watching Through the Night.

This is what My Mother does to Me.

Preying, Hunting,

Fixating Her Claws.

This is what My Mother does to Me.

Finding, Searching,

Unyielding to Truth,

Destructive, Damning,

Harmful to All.

This is what My Mother Is.

For many years I was afraid

To Tell Her the Truth,

Too Not be in My Mother’s Fan Club.

Conditioned to Fear,

Conditioned to Care,

Conditioned to Hold all the Little Pieces Together.

I am Conditioned No More.

I am Alive, Living a Life All My Own.

I am Loving Who I wish to Love,

And Loving for Purity,

Loving for Truth.

I am Loving Freely, not conditionally.

She Created a World

Out of Fear, Abuse, Lies, and Mistruth.

She Spun her Web and Wrapped Me In It.

Suffocating, Killing, and Crippling Me.

I Was Only Living a Half Life,

A Half Life of Me.

Trembling, Hyperventilating,

Sweating from Fear.

She was My Abuser,

And I?

I was Her Prey.

This is What My Mother Is To Me.

Never to Be Touched,

Never to Be Held,

Never to Be Told How Proud I am to Be Her Daughter.

Mother Daughter Dates at a fine Bistro,

Shopping For My Own Daughter’s Clothes,

Giggling and Laughing over Tacky Sitcoms,

These are the Things I Will Never Know.

Crying over spilled milk only leaves a soured gut in those who witness it.

My own family sets me up to fall into her traps.

Every door opening, every car driving by, I Fear. I Fear. I Fear.

Trust Issues? Talk About Stockholm Syndrome and PTSD.

Rape, abuse, trauma, terror.

These Were All The Things That Painted My Childhood Red.

Red as my Blood That Spilled on the Floor.

Red as Her Face Filled With Her Hate.

Red As the Walls of my own Personal Hell.

No More. No More. No More!

No More Hate.

No More Fear.

No More Monsters Lurking in the Dark.

This was my Life, with My Mother and I.

Now I’m living My Own Life,

A life full of love, beauty, and all the things in between.

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