My mother’s anger

I try not to let her take over
Try to be different
Try to forget the film that plays in my head,
when my sadness turns into anger.

Every angry slap across my face,
for a dirty room, unmade bed or un-followed rule.
Every time her hands encircled my throat,
and she cursed the day of my birth and the man who left her because of me.
Every angry word, screaming, shouting, beating,
I will not do that to them.
To them I am a saint,
Who grounds them and never gets angry.
Who loves them and never blames them.
But anger has to go somewhere,
And when the lights go off and their soundly asleep,
I take out the blades and cut my arms,
My anger released and no hurt to them.

My mother’s anger will never hurt them.

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