Some hands are blood stained, some are clean.
Mine are tear stained.
Stained with my own and the ones I caused my mother.
The ones she shed when I told her she wasn't my mom anymore, the ones she shed when I was in pain.
Tear stained hands are almost as bad as blood stained.
I will never feel as if they're clean or as if I'm clean for the pain my mother felt due to me.
She should've lived a life she wanted, been happy and even loved.
But she couldn't do that with me. I remember her saying she stopped taking her bpd meds because she was gaining weight but I always thought she was the prettiest person I've ever seen and at times I still think she is.
She's still my mommy but I guess I'm just cursed with being a little girl mourning her mom and needing her mom for the rest of my life.
I'll never escape this pain and fear of being abandoned, even if I was the one who abandoned her.
Even if I was the one so cruel to her.
She suffered because of me and now I'm suffering because of her.
Just an endless cycle of mother daughter pain.
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