I remember, I thought she was everything.
Her visits, were sacred to my innocent heart.
No doubt in mind, that she was perfect.

I was twelve.
Two years passed, and I still believed it.

Then, things turned.

She attempted things I didn't believe she was vile enough to do.
She whispered empty promises, and in my head I still hear them echoing during lonesome nights.

Times have changed.

At sixteen years old it occurred to me that the person I thought was everything, had become nothing.

I remembered the times she let my precious baby brother play in the street.
I remembered how her hurtful comments about my body, my being, pierced through me like a sharp knife.
I remembered the problems she caused, how I cried myself to sleep because of her cruel ways.

And I asked myself...what kind of mother had she been?

It was clear the woman I thought once beautiful, was rotten on the inside.

Now, when she speaks, I hope she won't make my stomach churn with her wicked words.

When she looks into my eyes, I pray she can't see my soul through the windows, and know how much she's caused it to blacken.

When she's around, I can only ask myself

What kind of mother had she been?