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(
[sid] => 43571
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => How My Mother Kills Me
[time] => 2004-04-16 22:05:41
[hometext] => This is what's going on right now. This poem took me three days to write (which is a long time for me) Not only because it's fairly legnthy, but because i would get so worked up, I couldn't stay with it. Please finish reading it and tell me what you think
[bodytext] => You try to help me out,
but you only make it worse.
I'm talking to the one who
supported me all my life,
the one who was always there.
But when I need you most,
you are not there.
When you found out
that I'd tried to kill myself
you did not even tell me.
All you did was call a help center.
and you told THEM how you felt.
You did not even TRY to talk to me,
or see how I was doing.
All you did was tell other people
what was wrong with me.
The next day you wanted to keep me
locked up tight and
hide me from the world.
Can't you see I need to
go to school?
To see that every thing's okay?
No longer do you allow me to
stay at home alone.
All the pills and knives locked up tight,
you act as if i'm crazy,
but never talk to me.
You tell everyone you know
what happened,
not wanting to hear my truth.
You invent your own version,
making me sound like a psycho.
you make me talk to
person after person, none of who
really want to hear me say
what really happened,
only your version.
But all i want is to
keep it inside,
I'm sick of this story.
One day it gets really rough.
i can't handle the pressure of
my mind at school.
I call you so that I may go home,
on the phone you seem just fine
and do not say a word.
You come and get me and
your first words to me are,
"Did you try to harm yourself?"
Why don't you understand that
Not every hardship
ends in cutting?
That I have some
self control?
Then you said you called the
help center once again.
You told me that they did not
want tot talk to me unless
I was actively suicidal.
What makes you think
I had gone that far?
You made more calls and went
out of your way
to make sure that they talked to me.
I did not want to talk to
anyone.
I fought you and even hung up
the phone.
They forced me to answer their
stupid questions I never stopped hearing,
assuming something was wrong.
For a while I was silenced by fear,
holding me captive in its
fiery grip.
No longer did I
drown my pain in
warm, sweet blood.
No more silver lipped kisses.
But the guilt within me
slowly took over,
convincing me that I am
good enough at hiding
the cuts, that they won't
put me in a psycho ward.
The fear wears off and i
continue cutting once again.
My mom keeps finding old cuts,
not understanding why I made them.
We are just too different...
For two days I forget my
depression medication.
My mom flips out and
tells me to go and take it.
There is a tone of
fear in her voice,
like she's afraid of me,
of what I will become.
Do I really need
the pills to be a
daughter that you'd want?
Do you hate me without them?
You call every shrink that
you can find, leaving the
same message everywhere,
"My daughter has a problem with
cutting herself."
But what you really mean to say is,
"My daughter is a problem. She's a
freak and needs to die."
You do not even understand
why I am upset.
But at least I
tell you things.
You don't.
All you do is
tell other people what is
wrong with me.
You tell me that
you're not mad at me.
"I'm just frustrated!
Aren't I allowed
those feelings?"
I get so *****
I throw my coat on
the chair.
It knocks stuff off the ledge.
You yell at me,
"That's right! Throw a tantrum!"
You complain about
not being allowed to feel.
What about me?!
Why can't I feel?
Why?!? How dare you complain?!
How dare you tell me
not to have a temper!!!
I have every right to!!!
But of course you cannot
understand that
and you never will unless you
talk to me and not just tell
other people what's wrong with me.
You see all the B's and F's on
my report card when
I used to get all A's.
There is only one F,
and B's are pretty good.
Especially when I
tried to commit suicide
just weeks ago.
It's the next quarter now.
One time I tell you,
"I don't give a crap!"
You sound all disappointed in me and say,
"I thought you'd changed
your attitude."
Why would I do that?
I won't pretend to
give a damn
if I really don't.
I'm sick of hiding,
sick of pretending.
I won't do it for you,
or for anyone else.
I'm sick of living a lie.
So either stop telling other people
what my problem is,
or I won't live at all.
[comments] => 6
[counter] => 146
[topic] => 61
[informant] => WorthlesSanity666
[notes] =>
[ihome] => 0
[alanguage] => english
[acomm] => 0
[haspoll] => 0
[pollID] => 0
[score] => 10
[ratings] => 2
[editpoem] => 1
[associated] =>
[topicname] => selfstruggles
)
How My Mother Kills Me
Contributed by
WorthlesSanity666
on
Friday, 16th April 2004 @ 10:05:41 PM in AEST
Topic:
selfstruggles
|
You try to help me out,
but you only make it worse.
I'm talking to the one who
supported me all my life,
the one who was always there.
But when I need you most,
you are not there.
When you found out
that I'd tried to kill myself
you did not even tell me.
All you did was call a help center.
and you told THEM how you felt.
You did not even TRY to talk to me,
or see how I was doing.
All you did was tell other people
what was wrong with me.
The next day you wanted to keep me
locked up tight and
hide me from the world.
Can't you see I need to
go to school?
To see that every thing's okay?
No longer do you allow me to
stay at home alone.
All the pills and knives locked up tight,
you act as if i'm crazy,
but never talk to me.
You tell everyone you know
what happened,
not wanting to hear my truth.
You invent your own version,
making me sound like a psycho.
you make me talk to
person after person, none of who
really want to hear me say
what really happened,
only your version.
But all i want is to
keep it inside,
I'm sick of this story.
One day it gets really rough.
i can't handle the pressure of
my mind at school.
I call you so that I may go home,
on the phone you seem just fine
and do not say a word.
You come and get me and
your first words to me are,
"Did you try to harm yourself?"
Why don't you understand that
Not every hardship
ends in cutting?
That I have some
self control?
Then you said you called the
help center once again.
You told me that they did not
want tot talk to me unless
I was actively suicidal.
What makes you think
I had gone that far?
You made more calls and went
out of your way
to make sure that they talked to me.
I did not want to talk to
anyone.
I fought you and even hung up
the phone.
They forced me to answer their
stupid questions I never stopped hearing,
assuming something was wrong.
For a while I was silenced by fear,
holding me captive in its
fiery grip.
No longer did I
drown my pain in
warm, sweet blood.
No more silver lipped kisses.
But the guilt within me
slowly took over,
convincing me that I am
good enough at hiding
the cuts, that they won't
put me in a psycho ward.
The fear wears off and i
continue cutting once again.
My mom keeps finding old cuts,
not understanding why I made them.
We are just too different...
For two days I forget my
depression medication.
My mom flips out and
tells me to go and take it.
There is a tone of
fear in her voice,
like she's afraid of me,
of what I will become.
Do I really need
the pills to be a
daughter that you'd want?
Do you hate me without them?
You call every shrink that
you can find, leaving the
same message everywhere,
"My daughter has a problem with
cutting herself."
But what you really mean to say is,
"My daughter is a problem. She's a
freak and needs to die."
You do not even understand
why I am upset.
But at least I
tell you things.
You don't.
All you do is
tell other people what is
wrong with me.
You tell me that
you're not mad at me.
"I'm just frustrated!
Aren't I allowed
those feelings?"
I get so *****
I throw my coat on
the chair.
It knocks stuff off the ledge.
You yell at me,
"That's right! Throw a tantrum!"
You complain about
not being allowed to feel.
What about me?!
Why can't I feel?
Why?!? How dare you complain?!
How dare you tell me
not to have a temper!!!
I have every right to!!!
But of course you cannot
understand that
and you never will unless you
talk to me and not just tell
other people what's wrong with me.
You see all the B's and F's on
my report card when
I used to get all A's.
There is only one F,
and B's are pretty good.
Especially when I
tried to commit suicide
just weeks ago.
It's the next quarter now.
One time I tell you,
"I don't give a crap!"
You sound all disappointed in me and say,
"I thought you'd changed
your attitude."
Why would I do that?
I won't pretend to
give a damn
if I really don't.
I'm sick of hiding,
sick of pretending.
I won't do it for you,
or for anyone else.
I'm sick of living a lie.
So either stop telling other people
what my problem is,
or I won't live at all.
Copyright ©
WorthlesSanity666
... [
2004-04-16 22:05:41]
(Date/Time posted on
site)
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Re: How My Mother Kills Me
(User Rating: 1 )
by 0o_Jelly_Bean_o0 on
Friday, 16th April 2004 @ 10:19:33 PM AEST
(User
Info | Send
a Message)
|
It is a very well written poem. And I can relate to how your feeling. Keep writing your feelings. If you want to chat, please feel free to pm me.
- Stacy |
|
|
Re: How My Mother Kills Me
(User Rating: 1 )
by JennyFruFru on
Friday, 16th April 2004 @ 10:49:23 PM AEST
(User
Info | Send
a Message)
|
| woah.... ummm relate much this way.... if u EVER want to talk let me know... seriously... i have lots of input about family crap... you can tell by some of my writes... and those are just my dad not to mention my mom.... i hate my family.... its a sad thing to say..... but i do |
|
|
Re: How My Mother Kills Me
(User Rating: 1 )
by Rhei76 on
Friday, 16th April 2004 @ 11:01:40 PM AEST
(User
Info | Send
a Message)
|
Dear Babie Girl,
Your writting is a very well told story of your emotions and frustations.
I am sorry your mom doesn't get it yet. But give it to her, she's doing all the thing (except
one) she is told to do to keep her baby around.
Now I am Bipolar, and I have witnessed
the words you speak. I know it's hard to understand and deal with.
But sweetheart, your mom isn't use to this situation either. You know she loves you, just give her a little time.
I know she has proceeded with the wrong process to heal you. But let that pass.
She knows how you are. try to sit with her at a solemn tone and tell her of your fears and pain.
I can see you love her.
These events are at no one fault.
She's just trying to keep you around all her life. While you want to find a way to heal the sadness. Give her time, she will grow, you will grow.
You know there are a million people who blow you kisses and hold you in their prayers,
and your mother is the first one there.
So give her a kiss, tell her you love her.
That things aren't alright, but atleast ya'll have each other.
I know at times it's hard, but ya'll will break down that wall.
Becareful -LOVE COMES TO YOU FROM THE WORLD-
If you need to talk, you know where I am.
God bless you and you mother. |
|
|
Re: How My Mother Kills Me
(User Rating: 1 )
by Dawny on
Saturday, 17th April 2004 @ 08:46:00 AM AEST
(User
Info | Send
a Message)
|
Very deep and emotional. I wont pretend to know what you are going through, but I will say I can listen should you want to rant.
Excellent poem
Love Dawny x |
|
|
Re: How My Mother Kills Me
(User Rating: 1 )
by ladyfawn on
Saturday, 17th April 2004 @ 01:28:25 PM AEST
(User
Info | Send
a Message)
|
very moving write, ive been on both sides of the fence now, and i tell you it does get better, try to keep in mind your mom is doing the best she can with what shes got, perhaps she has a hard time expressing her feelings, which you do not, you expressed them beautifully, we are here for you and if you want me personally my addy is oldengmastiff@hotmail.com or you could pm me here, i will listen, and give you my feelings and opinions, im not shy in that department, lol, try to smile, go outside, find a quiet place, sit in the breezes, stick your toes in the mud and feel alive; in a tangible way, and keep writing, your talent is sweet, your soul true, hugs n' love nessa x
@->>->- |
|
|
Re: How My Mother Kills Me
(User Rating: 1 )
by jaeann on
Sunday, 18th April 2004 @ 03:18:24 AM AEST
(User
Info | Send
a Message)
|
| you transfer your emotions through the pen quite well..........i've been on the receiving end of a psychotic mother.......and have felt like one at times........all i can say is it does change.....not really better and for some how could it get worse.......but it changes all the same......... |
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