Perfect

By , Philadelphia, MS
My mother sits staring at me.
I look in her eyes wondering what she is thinking, then I see the disappointment as the councilor slowly pulls up my sleeve and gently slides her finger along my cuts.
She flinches every time she feels the scares under her cold fingertips.
I hold back a scream, tears well up in my eyes as my mother seamlessly plays with her pearls and fixes her perfect hair.
I know now what she is thinking "how did this ever happen I could never tell anything was ever wrong," but there was.
She could never understand me, her nor my father!
How could this happen to such perfect people, and their perfect little girl.
All my life I've been pushed to be perfect but I cant be them.
They wake up beautiful and happy no matter what.
They laugh and act like nothings wrong.
It kills me how they can be so perfect and I can barley hide my temper.
I'm always wrong in there eyes.
This is my punishment the cold icy pain makes it better just for a second.
My mother gets up and walks away.
She cant handle it ,this is the real me she cant handle her own daughter!
I disgust her!
Some how this brings me nothing but pleasure, to see some one so perfect have a flaw so revolting as me.
The woman who gave birth to me, can't even stand to be in the same room as me. Wow what a great mother!
When we get home I proudly march to my room, like I have just won a marathon.
I can see her pink luscious lips whisper that her daughter is a freak in my father's ear, and I see his deep blue eyes dance with the fire growing in the beautiful stone fireplace.
He hears her repeat it once more this time she said it more slowly then before.
It gently rolls off her lips.
His eyes turn to a mesmerizing hazel color I seem to get lost in it, but I am snatched out of my haze when he lets his eyes fall, pretending he has something important on his plate.
I'm not really sure what my mother was hoping to accomplish by telling my father, but I'm sure whatever it was she got it.
As I stomp up the stairs, I look back and jump to see my mother inches away from me.
She's a very quite person.
I say nothing.
She frowns at me this look does not suite my mother very well I considered telling her, but I decided it might not be best at the time.
I just turn to walk back to my room.
She glides and sways behind me.
Why is she following me?
When I reach my room she still lingers behind me!
She's like a leech.
As I clear my through I ask her in a low voice what she is doing.
She doesn't answer.
She just fills my Louis Vuttion with clothes. Now I sit in this place where they tell me I'm crazy.
I reply "Aren't we all?"





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This article has 2 comments. Post your own now!

PoetryLovesMe said...
Jun. 17, 2010 at 9:31 pm

oh my god this really speaks to me.. my friend is going through the same things..you are  very talented keep up the good work, and if you can please check out some of my work.. thnx!:]

 

 
xXhate_my_heartXx replied...
Jul. 3, 2010 at 10:34 pm
OMG thanks so much and i'll be sure to check your writing out as well 8-) 
 
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