"P4r3nT5

Parents.

I no longer view this word this way

P4r3nT5.

Now this is much better

A mess of stuff that is put together to make it look, decent.

 

P4r3nT5.

What do they do anyways?

They’re supposed to love you unconditionally

They’re supposed to pick you up when you’re down, but what do you do when your head is on the ground because

you’ve had enough of the crying

you’ve had enough of the screaming

you’ve had enough of all the blows

You want it all to stop, just wondering if they even know

 

They don’t help, they don’t look after you. They aren’t your friends, so if you make that mistake, they’ll just laugh at you

Wanna know why kids cut all day?

Cuz of their fucking P4r3nT5, who go too far, who go all the way

 

Who’s to say that these creatures actually care?

When you were sad and alone did they comfort you at home?

Did they hug you and kiss you and tell you that they missed you?

Or did they put you down, without making a sound because the ringing in your ear was so enough to drown the voices out

 

Mother knows best, doesn’t she?

She knew it would be best to make fun of my weight in front of me.

To tell me all the things that were COMPLETELY wrong with me.

To point out that if losing weight wasn’t my goal, that I would lose EVERYTHING.

EVERY. SINGLE. THING.

Yeah. Mother knows best.

She best believe that when I’m gone, she’s going to know that she was wrong, all along.

She’ll know that when her “baby girl” was talking to her she should’ve paid attention more, because the test is here, and it’s just as we feared.

You’re nothing to me, this much is clear.

 

Go ahead, make your jokes. I promise you I’ll pay you a visit, when you’re alone and scared, and trying to make sense of everything.

And when you’re down, and on the ground, don’t forget that I’ll be there to help you know the pain that I felt when I thought you and dad were my P4r3nT5.

 

Dear Dad, isn’t it sad? I flew away dad, you know it’s true.

Do you know why? Come on, give it a try. Afterall, this isn’t new to you.

If I could plea, I would say to thee, fuck you, fuck mom, fuck life, for fucking up me.

 

If only you guys could see me now, if only you knew.

 

This new me, the ONLY me, had nothing to fucking do with you.

 

This poem is about: 
Me
My family

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