By R. T. Garner
You stated, “He doesn’t have a choice,”
Bitter, brief words in an unforgiving voice.
Penny-sized eyes flashed with control,
Taking away autonomy, only to crush the soul.
Was it love? No, only your games,
Manipulation hiding under a mother’s name.
Out of struggles, you only saw weakness,
And pushed to seize authority you had no right to seek.
I was a person, whole, complete,
Not some fool for you to beat.
But you treated me like I was small,
Like my voice didn’t matter at all.
Years of silence, a family lost,
Isolation served as your twisted cost.
Family warmth turned cold and gray.
All because of the games you play.
I stood up and said, “Enough!”
Your grasp was tight, but I got tough.
I broke the chains. I raised my voice.
I reclaimed my life. I made a choice.
While I am here, isolated and apart,
I carry wounds carved mercilessly into my heart.
I am now the shadow that fades away.
Yet, it is your shadow that steals my day.
You robbed me of laughter, of family, of light,
All for your power, all for your might.
But I won’t bow, I won’t retreat,
I stand my ground; I won’t be beat.
Now, the title, Mother, means nothing to me.
For a mother should love, not seek to decree.
You don’t own me; I’ve broken free,
From your control, your toxicity.
So save your games and your penny-eyed glare.
Own your manipulations and the consequences to bear.
Despite the bruises and tears, I am whole.
My power originated in the mayhem you sowed.
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