Life in the cycle of abuse

Dear mother, I know you don't wanna hear it
You've made it clear a thousand times but you know mom I fear it,
I fear the cycle, the turning wheel, the parallels I've drawn,
Because I can still hear his voice controlling me even though he's gone.
The problem is, it's not his voice that haunts my heart and dreams.
You taught me his kind of abuse is more than what it seems.
It's more than "hey, you're worthless" or "you'll never be anything".
It was also how he treated him, how his praises he would sing.
A parent should not pick a favorite child or that is what you told me.
The cycle continues, to my horror, as I always feared it to be.
The more you teach me of his abuse the more of it I see.

Dear, mother what am I to do?
What am I to say?
When people I thought that I could trust
Start treating me that way?
To scold me for every minor fault,
To tell me how I pain them,
Make sure I know that I'm the reason we have no money again.
To say to me such horrid things
To make me feel so bad
For every single thing I think
For everything I've had.
For my boyfriend buying me a present that was similar in style
For wanting to rest a bit when depression worries the mind.
I'm told that I ruined Christmas.
That I'm an ungreatful brat.
Then to be told in that same breath I have their undying support tell me,
What am I to think of that?
I think that there is something similar in what is said and done.
I expected to face abuse in my life
But mother... I never thought that you would be the one...

This poem is about: 
Me
My family
Our world

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