A mother doesn't weight her baby
for her own future calculations.
In her narrow & deserted mind
that's narcissistic, neurotic & blind.
I put my anchor around you
and you stumps around looking for
a good use for a daughter who's
valued cheap, a burden until
a willing slave. I'm sorry but
you're not a mother. I have
to learn to love somewhere else.
The pot that's cooking in you
has always been poison & tar
and you share it by receipts.
I had to learn to protect myself
against a self-hatred that ran wild.
You're not my mother. I think
there's always someone else.
I’m sorry, you are not my mother.
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