Why Don’t You Call Me?


Why don't you call me more often?" she asks.
After eighteen years of all-out war
I can still hear the words, they resound in my brain
the perfect punishment, how can one ask for more?

"I wish I'd never had you! I wish you were dead!
You're not the daughter I wanted!"
All those things that you said
I remember so well, and whenever I fail
they all come back screaming
and I end up impaled
on your words.

Oh, my mother, I tried so very hard
to meet your expectations, to earn your regard,
I never succeeded""you planned it that way
you couldn't let yourself love me
so I couldn't stay.

It's been three years now since I've left your home
and I've never been happier than since I've lived alone
I know I'm not perfect, don't expect to be great
but I know I'm okay now. I don't feel fifth-rate.

And now that I've made it, now that I've finally learned
to like what I am, now you're asking me

"Why don't you call me more often?"

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