You Are Not My Mother

You are not who you say you are. You call yourself my mother. I can see you now. Passed out on the sofa. The one Nana gave us. This is not my mother. Mommy doesn't drink from bottles. Mommy doesn't swallow pills. Mommy smiles and hugs me. You are not my mother.

They ask me why I'm always crying. They ask me why my eyes are red. I told you to stop. Why didn't you stop? I thought I was your baby. You are not my mother.

Brother's always leaving home. He's sleeping in his truck. Sister's always off with friends. She spends the night at their house, too. The only sleepover we have is with That Man. Who is he? Is he the reason Daddy left? Or is he Daddy's replacement? I miss Daddy. You are not my mother.

When you scream at me, it hurts. When you hit me, it hurts. Do you know that you're the reason I want to fall asleep and never wake? Did you know that Sister cuts? That Brother cries himself to sleep? I still have bumps, bruises, and red marks from your last rage. That's when you emptied all the bottles. Some of the marks are from That Man. He hurts me. I told the nurse that I was clumsy. I told the counselor, too. I lied for you. Why can't you sober up for me? You are not my mother.

Do you know I tried loving you? You made it impossible. I gave up. I can't love a monster, especially one who can't touch me without making my skin bruise or my mouth open and scream. Time after time I forgave you. And now I quit. You are not my mother.

I don't know if you ever will be.