Why you are the way you are,
some thing's always wrong.
You place the blame on me and dad,
where it doesn't belong.
You've had a stressful day at work,
as I've had one at school.
I come home and you treat me
as if I were a fool.
Nothing I do is ever right,
it's always incorrect.
So many times it's all my flaws
that you often detect.
I cry my eyes to stinging,
several times a week.
You never touch me, but your words
are mental slaps across my cheek.
You never hit or punch me,
in that case you respect.
But your words are deeply wounding,
they have an effect.
I'm slowly dying down inside,
No notice do you take.
For every problem that's not your own,
you consider it a fake.
Every little something,
is always my fault.
But your angry words burn like,
a wound covered in salt.
I'm sorry I can't be better,
I'm sorry I let you down.
Go on with your three-ring circus;
to you I'm a know-nothing clown.
Everything seems to always be my fault. Every little something that goes wrong is my fault. Weather it be a bad day at work, or if the computer's running slow, it's my fault. I feel like I'm not good enough for my mom. I know this isn't true, but that's how she makes me feel. She says I'm lucky I'm not a kid who gets hit. I agree, I'm very lucky. But to me, her words can be so much worse than any physical pain.
