If My Heart Could Speak

This is a poem that flowed out of me after I cut my mother out of my life.

Why? Why does it always have to be this way? 

Why can’t we have a normal relationship, the kind I’ve always wanted. 

When I was in school, the mother-daughter relationships were the ones I always coveted. 

I never felt “normal”, like somehow everyone always knew. 

They could tell my home life sucked by the dirty clothes I wore and the generic label on my shoes. 

As if the material stuff wasn’t hard enough,

I had to come home everyday not knowing what the situation was. 

Were you going to be up and about, having a good day? 

Even then, I would get sad because I knew how you got that way. 

What kind of child hopes their mother got high while they were at school just so you would be in a good mood?

Every time I think of you, it comes with a negative connotation. 

Probably because we could never even have a normal conversation. 

Why do I love to write? Because I was born to do so or because that’s the only way could communicate with my mother?

Everything turns into a screaming match, you’re never wrong.

Even when you are you could make enough excuses to write a sad country song.

I’m sick and tired of the pity party, what do you want me to do?! 

All I want is to scream at the top of my lungs, “IT’S NOT ALWAYS ABOUT YOU!” 

All you do is keep apologizing, as if it takes everything away,

but in reality you have absolutely NO CLUE how you effected me, so take your damn sorries and have a great day. 

I’m all grown up now, a family of my own. 

We make the decisions, my husband and I alone. 

I’m getting to live out the life I always wanted. 

My daughter won’t know a fraction of the heartache you put me through.

I’ll always be there for her, unlike you. 

She’ll never have to search all over town for me, or wait up late at night. 

She won’t have to cry herself to sleep to the sounds of me lighting my meth pipe. 

I’ll never make her hide my pills from me because I can’t control myself 

as a matter of fact I won't even take pills because to me, they’ve become the devil.

These are things that are embedded in my memory.

I will never forget them, they are a part of me.

My whole childhood is one big blur, 

like my mind won’t let me remember things because they caused me that much hurt. 

You robbed me of a proper upbringing and now you have the balls to comment on my parenting?

Who do you think you are? What gave you the right?

And you wonder why all we can seem to do is fight. 

I raised your children for you, you were barely even there. 

You forced me to be a mother to my sister and now our relationship sometimes seems beyond repair.

It’s a whole mess of things that your choices have effected. 

Some bigger than others, like how I became a wonderful mom from being neglected. 

I’ve always worked to do the opposite of what I saw from you. 

You gave me the perfect example of what not to do. 

I’m trying to work passed it, every single day

but for some reason the pain that you caused me just buries itself deeper, it never truly goes away. 

It'll pop into my head at the most inconvenient times, 

like when I get a whiff of a certain smell all these memories come flooding into my mind.

It makes me feel like I’ll never get over it. I just want to move on, not dwell on the past. 

I have a wonderful life, I am truly blessed! 

But no matter how happy I am day to day, 

you still creep in, like a mouse while we sleep. 

I can’t seem to escape the s**t storm you put me through, 

Honestly, what am I supposed to do? 

Just keep writing I guess, and get it all out. 

Hopefully it helps because thus far, nothing else has. 

I just really want you to leave me alone, 

stop getting me to have these feelings I haven’t had in so long. 

It makes my chest hurt and gets me sick to my stomach.

Only you do this to me, I just want to escape from it! 

So I told you today to leave me alone, 

I don’t want to see you or your name pop up on my phone. 

I just can’t do it anymore, you’ve put me through enough. 

The time has come for me to give up. 

So, With that, I bid you adieu, 

any s**t I go through from now on won’t have been caused by you. 

Author's Note

I'm a beginner writer and I know this isn't perfect. I want to get input on how this makes you feel. It may seem harsh, but so was living it. Any input is greatly appreciated.

Reviews

[JayG]

"I’m sick and tired of the pity party,"

This pretty well defines the problems. It's an 800 word essay on how lousy the speaker feels their relationship was with their mother.

But breaking the paragraphs of that essay into individual lines doesn't make it a poem.

But the biggest problem is that while this is good therapy for you, and getting the emotion out is great for you, it has little meaning to the reader because you provide a list of complaints but never make the reader feel, only know. And the entire purpose of poetry is to involve the reader emotionally. Look at a single line:

• I had to come home everyday not knowing what the situation was.

For you this calls up memories and ambiance. But to a reader, what does the generic term "situation" call up? Probably not what it does for you, and it should. You talk about "up and about, next, but only you know what the alternative is as you read it.

Yes, you later clarify, but that cannot retroactively remove confusion. Your writing, be it poetic or prose should be like a self guiding trail, where cause proceeds effect in a way that the reader has context for what's said.

Poetry is always written with the idea that it will be read aloud. And because the reader has no idea of how you would read it, and must guess, you must place the reader into the mind state you would be in as you read it, in order for them to duplicate your performance,

[Slow Leak]

This poem is really special. What you have been through!
"What kind of child hopes their mother got high while they were at school just so you would be in a good mood?
Every time I think of you, it comes with a negative connotation.
Probably because we could never even have a normal conversation.
Why do I love to write? Because I was born to do so or because that’s the only way could communicate with my mother?
Everything turns into a screaming match, you’re never wrong.
Even when you are you could make enough excuses to write a sad country song."

This is my favorite verse. Love the use of the senses throughout the whole poem. Thank you for sharing and writing. I hope it gets better

[AutumnsWords]

Thank you very much!