For my mother

I told myself I wouldn't let it get to me but you did this to me. Can't have a conversation without feeling you over my shoulder telling me how much better life would be without me. You hate me, you made me but you didn't raise me. You take my strength without even trying oh God I swear I'm dying. Laying on my pillow in a pool of sweat wondering if what I dreamed about was out to get me because I try to sleep but my mind won't let me.
You treat me respectfully until I let you know I'm not the dummy I used to be. You hate that I talk, you hate that I walk you hate that I don't believe your lies anymore. You're full of hate and it suffocates me to know you're always a minute late with your phony apology. You may have made me but what you are is still a mystery that people look for in history but can't find one page in a book writen to save your memory so maybe you haven't meant anything to me other that you put a hole through me after doing that there isn't much else you can do to me.