Oh mother, I am your leach.
Will you show me to line up the silverware just how you like?
No, I won't know unless you show me how.

I am soon 18, you know what is expected of me.
Till midnight tonight can you hold my hands together?
Because after 12, I'm a stranger in your house.

When I was little, you offered hugs and kisses only when required.
Now that I'm older you say I don't need you.
I'm not asking to be fed with the shiny silverware unused in years.
But I still need those hands to hold me tight.
The other moms know their daughters, but I just accompany you like a keychain on your big pink purse.

I'm longing for a childhood I never had.
Don't you think It's hard to sing when you're laying down?
So why did you leave me in my crib all day?
My bones hardened soon after birth, the proof you were a neglectful parent staring you deadpan in the face.
Years later, sure, the physical problems resolved.
But I never had a mother after that day.

© Junemousonae