What she taught me
When my mothers angry - she starts to say illogical things
Like maybe if I didnt smoke so much weed
I wouldnt have 6 cavities or
like the other day
When she told me " maybe the lesbian is getting to your head "
As if my sexuality makes me who I am
She made it sound like it was a disease
As if I was terminally ill if I was being me
How do I tell her that I am sick of being me?
And I just thought that she'd be a little bit more understanding
Considering the fact that she said she loved me
And isnt that what love is?
Accepting one another inspite of your indifferences
After all I am her child, but just like her mother
She's grown bitter aswell
The other day she told me
that without me she'd have no reason for being
How do I tell her that living has become a strainful activity?
A constant pressure on my lungs
It's not quite asthama but still asthmatic
It feels like drowning
But you have no water - to explain how bad it is
My mother taught me that the climax of love
Is right when it's about to fuck up
The peak is filled with soft and gentle touches
But then you have to deal with the aftermath of all the mayhem
And everyone claims that they're not masochistic
But still stays in broken relationships
Hoping maybe one day their fist will spell tenderness
And their words won't feel like bullets and they have a loaded gun to their head
And if love is continuously going back to something that is unhealthy
I wonder how many of us are sick
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