You were supposed to be a second mother,
You said I was your mini me,
Born to your brother, but I was yours by proxy,
As my aunt you announced,
“I will always protect my family.”
It was a crock of shit,
You help spread lies about my father,
With knowledge of his innocence.
Revictimize me, who’s supposedly like a daughter,
With a false sense of self-righteousness?
Then you have the audacity to act like a martyr?!
You must live in a fabulous, fucked-up, fantasy.
Funny how I still feel sorrier for you, than I do for me.
You were as enchanting as that white wooden archway,
Your thorns hidden behind crimson red roses,
Slithering like a snake you spewed nothing but hate.
I got older and no longer saw through rose colored glasses,
You gave me no choice but to become a verbal assassin.
Twisting and fibbing about my most private violation,
Your God would...