Trauma Poetry

like mother like daughter

i used to look at my mother,

i'd wonder and ask why.

"why is mommy so mad?"

i'd stare at her and cry.

i used to roll my eyes,

when she'd lock herself away.

i'd point out when her voice changed,

a whole nother person speaking,

"why must you lie?" she'd ask and shoo me away.

i used to wonder,

when she looked into the mirror,

why she'd break down and weep.

"she doesn't recognize herself," dad would explain.

i used to wonder,

why she'd never leave dads side.

she'd scream, beg, as he tried to go get the mail.

i used to wonder,

why some days she couldn't be touched.

i used to wonder,

why'd she'd be dragged to the hospital everyday.

i used to wonder,

why she wished to hurry up and decay.

i hate it how my mother,

looks at me and cries,

"what is wrong with you!?"

she ask and watch me cry.

i hate it how my mother,

gets mad when i lock my door,

"LEAVE ME ALONE"

i scream into the wall.

i hate it how my mom,

points out my attitude,

i sound the same to me,

"why must she lie?" i ask and shoo her away.

when i brush my teeth,

i look at my face and whine.

"why don't i look human?"

"am i real?"

"who am i?"

"why don't my face match my thoughts?"

i'd ask myself while i break down and cry.

i hate it when,

i sit is so far apart,

they are gonna leave me,

they are going to stand up,

declare how much they hate me,

and cut the out of their life's.

i will be left out,

and be left behind.

they will never come back and i will be all alone.

i hate it when people know i exist,

they see me and hear me,

they touch me.

why do i need to be touched?

why do i have to be human?

i hate it when mom pulls out her phone and i beg,

i beg her not to call the cops,

just because i'm having another breakdown.

i resist getting in the car,

i don't need another nurse seeing me bare.

i hate it when people criticize me,

i lay down in bed.

wishing upon my decay,

why am i not dead?

me and my mom are now alike.

we both have a hole in our chest filled with trauma.

a chemical imbalance,

a mind no one can understand,

no matter how hard you try.

our traumas are diffrent none the less,

her trauma was sa and an narsastic mom who drank.

but mine was you, olivia.

now all i want you to do is rot.