Mother
My mother is an amazing woman
In the sense that her tongue is razor-sharp,
But still claims it loves
Her hands burn my flesh,
Yet still hold me so gently
People say I take after her
I wish I didn't
I try not to see it
How my tongue is razor-sharp
Like hers
I try to ignore the burn marks on the ones I love
I want to hate her
But it's hard
A dog doesn't want fleas
But she kept them anyways
And why wouldn't her tongue be sharp?
The man she loves is sharper
He spews his vitriol
And she collects it all
Like water in her bucket
But somedays it overflows
And spills all over me
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