I hate the way you talk to me,
I hate it when you constantly stare.
I hate the way you treat me,
Most of all I hate how you pretend to care.
I'm supposed to be your daughter,
Your supposed to be my mother.
So why do you always play favourites,
Between me and my brother?
You know this isn't fair,
You know what you do isn't right.
Sometimes I even dread,
Coming home at night.
You might feel bad,
A little sad that this has caused strife.
You even might think that you have won,
Doesn't change the fact that I'm stuck with this horrible life.
