Parents

My parents like to keep me close,

so they’ve built me up,

only to keep me down,

and I say why,

and they reply,

“if we didn’t care we’d let you go.”

Then set me free,

away from your words,

but they’ll just smile and look at me,

because they know,

that I cannot live without,

the sweet words they say.

In fact if you cut my veins,

I’m sure that no blood would flow,

instead you’d hear the words,

the words they speak, 

to keep down and low,

so that they may use me as they please.

I need their approval and praise,

just like,

a meth addict needs meth.

in a way,

I’m addicted to the high,

their words make me feel.

Though I never seem to make 

I’ll rattle the chains that keep me anchored,

In an attempt to make them say,

“for once you have done good.”

I need to hear,

even though I was an accident,

in their eyes alone,

I have done good.

I cannot live without, 

my parents approval or praise,

because it somehow justifies,

this need deep down inside,

that makes me feel,

good enough.