Why does mother do this?

I ask a simple question,
why do you do these things,
cry yourself to sleep?
Hurt until you bleed?

As dark night falls,
silent tears roll down your cheeks,
you grip the vodka bottle,
as i stand in the corner and watch.

In the morning i awake,
to hear your violent heaving,
I walk off to school too angry,
hear your voice in my burning ears.

This pain i feel every day,
i wonder if it's real,
i want to escape and run away,
though i stay because you need me.

We are being held on by puppet strings,
controlled by the one above,
however much i try to cut them,
the stronger and tougher they get.

Afternoon sun, streaming,
through the dusty windows,
i watch you lay in the bath,
gently washing your neck, in-case you break again.

Then that one night came,
you told me too watch and copy,
so as the blood poured from our wrists,
i cried tears of fear and hope.

why do you do this mother i say?