When I start to cry,
my tears aren’t wiped
with my mother’s fingertips
but instead my own.

My blanket or stuffed animal
is what I hug when I need comfort
and not my mother’s arms

My mother no longer does my hair
instead I’m in control of how I treat it

I’ll take my own showers and bathe myself

I’ll make my own food when I’m hungry

I’ll pick my own outfit to wear

I’ll go shopping - by myself

I’ll get my nails done - by myself

I’ll do everything for myself
I’ll become an independent woman
I’ll feel empty inside
and get sad and depressed

but you left me with no choice.

© eyesthatcry