Mother

You hold nothing but hate

You know nothing but anger

You speak nothing but contempt

All towards me

I know you wish me dead

I know you wish me never born

I know you wish me to be the robot you want

But even I know you will never admit this

Am I that much of a pain to you?

Am I that much of a regret?

Am I such a terrible person?

That with which you wish gone

Do you really not see?

. . . . I'm just your daughter.