Mother

What am I,
if not a vessel for your hatred?
A messenger.
A cage.
A guardian of dark feelings that you choose not to share with others.
Only with family.
Only with me.
What am I,
if not an image of what you wish was,
but isn't?
A painting.
Art.
A piece of clay so carefully sculpted into what you want others to see.
Projected images.
Projected feelings.
What am I,
if not a cruel joke the world has played on you?
Karma.
A mistake.
Something your morals compelled you to keep.
Guilt.
Obligation.
What am I,
if not your daughter?
A girl?
A woman?
A broken human being who spent her entire life in your servitude.
Working so hard to please you.
to prove to you,
that I am no mistake.
What am I,
if not a girl who's life work has been to make you happy?
Only to fail,
and to be punished for that failure.
Every second,
of every day.
Crying.
Praying.
Begging whatever powers above me,
that today,
will be different.
That today,
this darkness you pour into me everyday,
will suddenly cease.
That today,
I can finally live for myself,
and not for you.
What am I,
if not your daughter?
What are you,
if not my mother?
Monster.
Creature.
A pretty shell hiding a black soul that lives for the pain you inflict on others.
Why,
do you torment me so?
Why,
after all I have done to prove to you I am what you want to see,
do you punish me for wanting to be my own person?
Why,
am I not allowed to be happy?
Why,
after all these years,
do you still torture us into submission?
Is my suffering,
not enough for you?
Are my tears,
not enough for you?
Is my broken heart,
not broken enough for you?
What am I,
if not your plaything?
A doll.
A face that will always smile,
no matter how deep your knife goes.