see,
it never really mattered how much you hurt me—
i just wished you would be sorry.

because it was you,
that made me realize i have a house but not a home,
crawling into a bed and covers that do not warm me.

you who made the name "mother",
sound so bitter as it rolled off my tongue,
each syllable putting out any remaining light inside of me.

it was never anyone but you,
that turned nurturing into a repulsive concept—
or in my case, a reality.

...

"mommy, i scraped my knee! mommy, do you love me?"