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When mum would talk to other folks about her family,
She’d always speak particularly proudly about me … 
Of how I’d gone to grammar school, my bookish ‘steel-trap’ mind.
To hear her, you would think I was a boon to all mankind! 

It should have made me happy to have such a super Mum … 
So why did I feel sheepish, and fat, and gross, and DUMB? 
Why could I never say to any person how I felt, 
Or tell them how I wished the ground beneath me would just melt? 

Could it have been because I sensed that, under Mother’s pride, 
The plain unvarnished truth was, she was never satisfied? 
Did she feel that I’d let her down by being fat and clumsy? 
Or was it that I loved my Dad more than I loved my Mumsie? 

For, truth to tell, that was a fact. For all she wished it other, 
I loved my father in a way I never could love Mother. 

I do know she was jealous of the love between us two … 
She let it slip in ‘chance’ remarks such as “Who’d look at you?” 
“Your skirt’s too short!” “You’re much too fat!” and far unkinder slurs. 
She saw me as a rival for his love, that should be hers. 

She never learned the secret. No, she never found the key – 
That he loved me just as I was, not “How I ought to be … “
The tragic thing was, we loved her in just that same way too. 
We tried to show it, but poor Mum could not believe it true. 

So, after all, it wasn’t me who wasn’t good enough – 
No-one could satisfy her, not a soul could measure up. 
For Mum had never loved herself: she’d never felt worthwhile. 
That was the truth behind the boasts: the tears behind the smile. 

She couldn’t let herself be loved. She never could perceive 
True love can never be possessed, but it must be received.

I feel so sad to think of how she wasted her whole life 
Pursuing love, in such a way all she could cause was strife. 
By fighting hard to keep us, she was driving us away. 
If only she could let us go, perhaps we would have stayed … 

But now I am determined not to make the same mistake. 
From now on, I shall give love, and accept love, but NOT TAKE!
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