Misunderstood Tears

I lay in my bed,
hot tears
crawling down my face.

My face buried in my arms,
which are now stained with black eyeliner.

My mom yelling at me,
trying to tell me how I feel,
but how should she know?

She doesn't get how I feel about anything,
but she still tries to tell me,
and I tell her she just doesn't get it.
or me for that matter!

My mom hates what I am,
hates the fact that I kissed a girl - and liked it.

My eyes are tired, and dry,
my face is streaked with black.