I read her words, those words imprinted onto the bland screen,
Those empty words about how beautiful I am, how she loves me,
I read her words, those broken words of a broken woman,
Those tainted words about how gifted I am, how she adores me.

But even if she does, I loathe her,
I can’t stand the fact she wanted me to be taught by her,
To have her wine-stricken words enter my mind,
I resent her, I can’t stand a minute of her.

Her tender words disgust me, all those lies written on a piece of paper,
Her pitiful advice on teenage-years I ignore,
Her spiritual guidance is nothing more than a hoax,
Her insignificant tears are nothing more than stained selfishness.

She can cry, she can cry all she wants,
But I wil not pity her, I won’t tell its alright –
Because it’s not, it never has been,
And it never will be.

She can drown in the foul wine she drinks,
She can slit her wrists for all I care,
The tears you may see on my face aren’t of grief,
Just of a cruel joy that’s she’s gone.

Admittedly her skills are awe-inspiring, admittedly I wish I had such gifts,
But I could never be her – I never will be that God-forsaken woman,
I will never listen to her words about how I must strive for my goal,
It’s my life, I know what I want to do with it, she doesn’t need to tell me.

When she asks for a hug and I do so, but the smile on my face is empty,
The love in my eyes is nothing but an act,
When she takes my hand I try to pull away, but I don’t want to hurt her feelings,
Even if she is a wreck, she’s still a damned part of me – small as it is.

Her soul will never rest within the gates of heaven,
Her love will never surround me,
Her anguish of my disappearance will fade,
Her memory will flitter like a forgotten butterfly.

Rest in peace, rest in peace,
Die sober as you never were,
Cry in grief, cry in grief,
Die crying as you always are.