To the Women who Raised Me (Who Doesn't Deserve to be Called Mother)

There's nothing I like more
than being mistreated.

I love my face being kicked to the Earth,
getting treated like fucking dirt,
just to show me how much I'm worth.

You're fucking crazy and not even the
pills will save you.

Go fucking die, bitch.
I wanna see you cry, bitch.
Stick a needle into your fucking eye, bitch,
and promise me that once you die, you'll stay
dead. Because your memory won't haunt me.

You were supposed to raise me.
To support me.
To be there for me.

All you did was feed me and as long as
I was Mormon you loved me. Then it came
to a boil and your love turned to hate
and you tossed misery onto me the way
you tossed a blanket on me as a child
who fell asleep on the couch.

You were supposed to kiss me goodnight
and instead you bit.
You were supposed to hold me tight and
instead it was me you hit.

A good momma will make you food.
You poison my dinner with harsh words
and insults.

You are the reason I hate myself.
Go fucking die.
Go ahead and kill yourself.

Wanna know pain? Love the fact
Jesus died for your sins?
Here's where your bullshit ends
and here's where my life begins.