You.
You.
You.
I hate you, I really do.
Why do you always make me cry?
Make me feel unloved, hated, worthless?
What am I to you?
Your daughter or just a taken place?
Every day of my life, I put on a smile even though I’m broken inside.
Every time you ask “How are you?”
I say I’m fine, it’d called being strong.
I hate you so, fucking much.
But I have to be thankful because without you I wouldn’t be here.
Three more years and then I am finely free.
Free from you.
Did you know that I have begged Mum for a divorce?
Ofcourse you didn’t.
You want to know how I know that so sure?
Taken space has no voice.
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