Mother malice

You’re a liar and I despise you. Let me ask you a few questions mother; let me see you’re able to answer with words instead of fists.
Do you love me? And if so then why do you scream every time something is wrong.
Do I matter to you? And if I don’t, is that the reason you take it out on me.
Do you care if I live or die? And if you don’t is that my you beat me a little further into self-loathing.
Do you mean it when you say you hate me? And if not then why do you tell me different?
Did you care when I was in hospital? Or were you just worried about how it was making you look?
Do you really think I’m the reason our family is broken? And if so, is that the reason you stay away from me?
Does is actually matter to you if I come home? And if not, that explains why you never call to check, like everyone else’s mothers do.
Do you enjoy pushing me into tables and benches? And if not, then why do it?
Do you want to be feared every time you get in my personal space to strike me again? And if so then why do you hate me that much?
Do you feel I was your biggest mistake? And if not, then why do you act that way?
Do you cry at night like me after another abusive confrontation? Or do you smile at the thought of me in bed wasting away?
Do you love my father? Or do you just spend every moment away from our home because of me?
Do you like sleeping at the opposite end of the house to him? And if so, why?
Are you sorry for anything you’ve done? Or are you happy for the pain you cause.
Why do you yell when you can talk? Why do you hate when you can love?
Did it mean anything to you when I came to you, handing over my torture tools? Or was it just another meaningless action?
Does it matter to you that I suffer? Or do you really find joy in how miserable you make me?
Does it bother you that we have no relationship? Or does hitting me count as one in your books?
Do you like the red patches you leave and the emotional scaring? If so, why am I the target?
Do you want anything to do with me? Or am I just another stone to throw into the ocean of nothingness?
Do you like blaming me for everything in your life? If not, then why am I such a disgrace to you?
Why don’t you come home until its way past my bedtime? What’s so much better out there, then at home, with us?
Why do you neglect me every time I ask for help? Why do you misuse me when I’m in need of help and I don’t tell you?
How is it that I’m the foulest thing you’ve ever set eyes on? But what you’re doing is okay?
Mother, when did spitting on someone become a moral standard? Mother, when did hitting me become acceptable? Mother, when did it become okay in your mind, to destroy mine? Mother, why are you allowed to ask questions, but I’m not? Mother, what happens to the money father gives you to buy food, which never appears? Mother, why do you hit me when you’re sad? Mother, do you hit me because you hate me? Mother, why do you call me a liar, when you’re nothing but a fake? Mother, how am I liar when I only tell the truth? Mother, why do you criticise my weight because you’re obsessed with the way you look? Mother, why don’t you ever come home? Mother, was I really a mistake? Mother, what is the point in me living, if the woman, who gave birth to me, doesn’t want me here anymore?