When I was younger 

I thought being an adult gave you 

Some universal power

Some universal knowledge

Some sense of maturity.

When I was younger

I looked at those around me 

And wished I could be just like them

Pretty and Loud

"Strong" and Proud.

When I was younger

I idolized my mother

Thought she was perfect

And thought that she cared.

When I was younger

I thought growing up was something that

Everyone did

That it wasn't optional.

But then I grew up

And I saw the differences.

The difference between growing up 

and being mature,

The differences between respect and power.

I grew up and realized

My mother never did.

She got an "adult" job,

Married an "adult" man,

Had children and threw "adult" parties,

But she never grew up.

There is an issue when you hear

Pettier words than spoken in your middle school

Spoken towards you about you

By the woman who is supposed to love you.

There is an issue when you hear

More insults directed at you

Every day when you get home

Than you have at school from any bully.

There is an issue when you feel

As if you are so worthless

That your life has no meaning

And you are only ten years-old,

All of that because she told you so.

And you start counting days

Days until you are free,

Or think you will be.

And it gives you hope,

Rays of happiness 

Through the words, hurt, and hate,

Through the beatings, starvings, and denial of basic rights.

And you sit back while your hard work

Your achievements

Are all chalked up to her

And her supposed good parenting.

If they could see behind closed doors

They would see the pain

They would see the hatred

They would see the rage

And they would see it being taught.

They would see it taught

to a girl younger than I

That if mommy says you can

You can hit her

You can insult her

You can make her less than human

Because mommy does it too.

Because there's something wrong with her

And I used to think it was me.

Seventeen times I tried to die.

Seventeen times I failed.

Eighteen years I lived through this.

Eighteen years of hell.

Eighteen years I have died inside,

Leaving nothing but a shell.

Maybe on my eighteenth try

Maybe I will not fail.  

But worthless I am.

But a failure I will always be.

But less than human I exist.

Because She told us so.