you’re just like her — a poem by me

You try to tell yourself you won’t be like your mother. That you’d rather die than ever turn out like her. The last thing you’d want is to continue the cycle, right? Be the bigger and better person, as they say? The last thing you ever wanted was to be a mentally unstable bitch. 

You put up with her screaming at you for the smallest things for so long. Kicking you out of the house just for looking at her the wrong way. Calling you stupid and retarded day in and day out. That’s all you’ve been to her, a stupid retard. You can’t ask questions. Don’t ever ask questions, because that makes you a disrespectful and impolite and entitled little bitch. A child should never question their parents. They weren’t taught to be impolite and entitled little bitches. Don’t use a different tone. Don’t look at them differently. Asking “why” is the worst thing you could possibly do. 

You never wanted to be the miserable fuck your mother turned out to be. You never wanted to be mean and nasty and scream and yell at people constantly. You never wanted to become an emotionally abusive little cunt. 

Now look at you. You’re all grown now. You scream and yell at your little sister when she’s bothering you. She’s only eleven years old and she can’t speak. She can’t speak. She doesn’t understand. How could you do that to her? She’s a fucking child. 

You hate your mother, but you’re just like her. You’re a fucking failure. You will die a failure. Good fucking luck, because nobody’s going to help you.