words I've drunk

so with birthday wishes

come scathing accusations



from the hand

of a precious little eleven year old.

Unbeknowingst to her, as she can help it not,

it is painful to read

the cute large lettered handwriting

that scuplts a message

as if molded

by the hands

of a mother.



A mother that has

tried to pull my strings

to guide me in a path she deems

right.



A mother's task is no picnic.

It's more like hell on earth i'm sure.

So much responsibility brought upon herself

to make my life a good one...



but this is unacceptable.

twisted

wrong

passive aggressively

a slap in the face.

dwell i must not

and dwell i won't

but this cant go unoticed

for damage is done.