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Eight years she waited. Seventeen years I hated.

Poetry By: paloma0703
Memoir



Sometimes, there's just no pleasing them.


Submitted:Jan 2, 2013    Reads: 72    Comments: 5    Likes: 3   


Eight long years of waiting for her precious little girl,

Cannot erase the agony she brought into my world.

She showered me with kisses, hugs and pretty smiles;

She rubbed my head every night for a little while.

She dressed me in the cutest of the girly clothes,

And did my hair up in pigtails with tiny little bows.

She chose my friends, the shows I watched and the food I ate.

She even tried to make me love and taught me how to hate.

For every word of kindness, two of evil came.

The demons from her past, she did not learn to tame.

Instead I served a purpose, as a punching bag.

It is not lady-like I know but I can't help but brag.

The toughest of the punches and quickest of the blows,

I can take just like a man, my mother only knows.

Our images in time were more and more the same.

She tried to have with me that bond that only movies made.

As time went by I learned to see the truth within the lies.

Easier it came to be for me to say goodbye.

No longer did I have to wait for her to come around,

I took a big deep breath and picked myself up off the ground.

I think about her now and then and wonder how she's doing.

I picture her in the kitchen and know that she is spewing….

Words of evil malice, of hatred and of spite.

Always wanting to control me, morning, noon and night.

The laughs and happy memories are all just fantasies;

They are the ones that took the place of those that frighten me.

Her little baby girl is now a mother too,

And never will I ever be a mother quite like you.





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