You scar and scab me,
Thinking that it'll be the tonic, that brings you out of obscurity
And into the land you believe that you're meant to be
You tell me that I deserve it,
You try to justify your behavior with a book that teaches love and compassion
So, when I err and you need an outlet for your anger, my suffering is holy and your punishment righteous
But don't you realize that you break my psyche with every blow you make?
Every "you're not good enough" I take
Every "be like person A or B,"
but you never seem to be proud of me
You say you do it for my good,
But since when was good defined by a diminishing self-image, in a child?
By a nagging voice in the back of the mind that told me nothing I'd do would ever be enough?
You say you do it because you love me, but since when was love conditional?
Since when did your love for me,
depend on how much of a conformist I could be?
How much I acted like the others, so that you'd be proud of me?
You say you do it to help me,
But since when was it help, when you built barriers for me that I couldn't get out of?
By defining the standards I'd have to measure up to in order to have value in this world? In your eyes?
I see now, that I can't be the scapegoat for your inability to see
That all the things you've claimed would help me,
Have left me more broken than I could ever be
It seems like the only person who truly cared about me, was me.