??? when the hell did I write this?

It's never your fault
I forgive you again

You yelled
And I cried
I cry because I am weak
You are not to blame

You work hard
How dare I offer to help
For I am nothing

Weak pathetic child that I am
What am I good for?
A burden to you
Nothing more
Never anything more


I love my mom. :-) really. Sometimes.... I get mad. But I write poetry instead of fighting or running away or developing permanent mental trauma, like some people do when they don't get along with Mother, eh mister Freud??

I want my mommy!

Read me another poem, mommy!
Take me home! Take me home, mommy!

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