monster (for my narcissistic mother)
I’m a monster.
How could I be so cruel and heartless?
You did this to me.
A lifetime of dealing with you did this to me.
I imagine punching you, kicking you, breaking you.
I imagine stabbing you with needles. I imagine lighting things on fire.
I imagine trapping you under a blanket and screaming at you until I can finally make you understand.
It wouldn’t work.
You’ll never understand; you don’t want to.
I know it’s true, but sometimes I scream my feelings at you anyway, in hope that, maybe this time, it will click.
Maybe this time I’ll find the words that force you to see.
I’ve tried a lot of words over the years.
I guess a lot of them were hurtful, but only because I’m trying to show you my hurt.
I want so badly for you to understand the way I feel.
But I guess you only ever understood your own pain.
So I’m angry and violent and irrational.
I screech and scratch and shove and pull and twist.
There is shock and horror in your face, as if I didn’t learn all of this from you.
You taught me that making them fear you was how you show someone your love.
I don’t know why you’re surprised at how I turned out.
How could your daughter be anything but what you are?
I am a monster by birth and by necessity.
It was the only way I could have survived.
But I’m better than you.
I slay monsters, too.
And I am not exempt from my own sword.
I am a monster for you, and you alone.
(I know you like it when things are all about you)
When you die, I’ll be free.
This toxic bloodline stops with me.
I can’t help what I am, but I won’t poison anyone else.
I am thrilled to disappoint you.
So spare me the manipulative
bullshit.










