Hear Her Out.

xx.

It’s fold this sheet just
So - no, wrong!
    Eight.
Her slap still stings at ten.

Do your homework right-
Just as I do, that’s the ticket;
Still wrong, still stings.
    So she said.

See those golden arches,
Eyebrows, French fries,
    Future.
Just like your mother.
    Yes, I see her too.
All you’ll be is hers.

Hair imperfect? Cut
Stray strands.
    No, stay.
Ugliness isn’t a virtue.

Arrange my room! Practice
    For under the Arches.

‘Did she touch you?’
    Hide the bruise.
    I’m a good

Try to be someone
Thing
Time
Where
Whispers go every, not some.

Still have to fold sheets, just
So - No! I think-
Still wrong…

Still wrong at seventeen.

Author's Note

Tried to channel more psychological abuse than physical.
True facts from childhood.
Not really looking for pity or other such emotions; criticize this.
Please.