How could you let this happen to me?
While I was growing up, you always made me see
How mean and cruel your mother was to you.
And you promised you’d never make me feel that blue.
You told me stories of how she hurt you,
Stories that I’m facing with you now, too.
It’s not fair, why are you doing this?
Do you know I cry myself to sleep seeing your fist?
In my dreams, you now will forever haunt me.
I’m afraid to talk, so in dreams, I let my thoughts flee.
What is it wrong that I have done?
Please tell me, I want to again be your number one.
Whatever it was, I swear I didn’t mean it.
And after all is done, I look at the spots you have hit.
Bruises, cuts, and marks from your hand,
And I think to myself, I know you can change, you can.
I give you chances and chances and chances galore,
But every time you hit me, you ask for one more.
Doesn’t it hurt you that I coward down to you?
I guess not, ‘cause your always turning me more black and blue.
And then you ask for a chance...yet another.
My question to you: How can you call yourself my mother?
