A Mother's Love
When a mothers love is supposed to be your first,
It makes it all hurt a little bit worse.
For you never taught me what love was,
Only reminding me that it was all because,
It’s hard to give what you never had,
But I was just your daughter, and without a dad.
I longed to be held in your arms, for you to tell me that it’s okay,
But all the while, instead you would say,
How could you be so ungrateful, I’ve clothed you, I’ve housed you, I’ve put food on the table.
You’d tell me how you had it much worse, saying how much you were unable,
To hold me, to love me, to say what I needed.
Instead you gave orders, to always be heeded.
So I learnt to want for less.
To become small and to suppress,
My yearning for a mother who would love me wholeheartedly,
And instead to accept that she’ll only have parts of me.
I still wait in hope you’ll call me and say,
How sorry you are. But instead I won’t stay.
I won’t let you take more of me than you already have,
I’ve already had to split myself in half.
Instead I will walk away, so please. Do not beg me to stay.
For your love was supposed to be first.
That’s why this hurts so much worse.
Copyright © Victoria Wilkes | Year Posted 2025
|