My scars

Oh mother why don't you like me? Why are you always so angry? Is it because I didn't clean up my toys? Because I played with the boys? I remember you once said. You wished I were dead. Was that the alcohol talking or you? What did I do to deserve what you put me through? I didn't understand why daddy laid his hands on you. And why he dragged your ex around with a hanger until he was blue. He would smack you around while I sat there unmoving in the background. I grew up and it was only then that I understood. You mommy... were no good.

I was in high school when I realized. The real you I recognized. I saw through all your bullshit. I know I wasn't perfect I'll admit. But you sorta made me this way. You reap what you sow, that's what they say. You were manipulative and conniving. All the while my adolescence you were depriving. A victim you pretended to be. Purposely hitting me so Id strike back. Yeah you wanted me to attack. But I didn't give you the satisfaction. I sat there once again unmoving. No reaction. You lied anyways told my brother I hit you. He latched on to all the lies you spew. Tried to play daddy and scold me. "Respect your mom" is what he told me. Fuck off is what I should of said. But I kept my mouth shut and nodded my head.

It never changed...Her drinking. Nope that was all wishful thinking. So at night when she went to sleep. Id cut my arm slicing deep. I wasn't suicidal. Horizontal lines. I knew the guidelines. I just liked how it felt. Watching the blade cross my skin and then seeing it welt. The blood appears and trickles down my arm and onto the tile floor. In that moment I just didn't care anymore.

Now they are scars that constantly remind. Of the past I left behind. A promise to myself to be a better mom to my offspring. So to me, my scars mean everything.