Bitter Daughters

Here is a truth as hard as honed steel, It cuts like a knife but rolls like a wheel Approaching with promise of nearness and love, But slicing as deeply as hate from above. It severs not the connection in between, Yet it minces a Mother in ways unseen. After years in her mold, your self you exert By cutting her under and enjoying her hurt. You joke with your friends how controlling she is Ya’ll drink and you laugh, creating foul aliases, Childishly exaggerating, thoughtlessly you rally, Bolstering your girlie group but keeping no tally Of the dishonor you pile on both Mothers AND spawn. Will this cruelty not live on once Moms are gone?