~If you're reading this and you are a survivor of emotional and/or physical abuse, I dedicate this to you. Sadly, this one is personal for me. We are no longer victims, we are survivors~

*Notice: This poem has some mature language.

It's been brewing inside of me and now it's coming out like volcanic ash, way past, the point of returning to a calm state, so forgive me as these words take me on a much needed therapeutic journey in what I like to refer to as my own personal, "poetic tirade."

I've held my tongue for way too long and I've decided, I can no longer deny it. It's time to let my rage flow. Do you know what it's like to be at the mercy and to be raised by a sociopathic, compulsive lying, poor excuse for a mom? Well, I know.

The closet's open wide and the skeletons are gonna pile up fast. Dirty laundry, getting aired out and you know what? I don't give a fuck. Hand me a shovel and I'm putting her worthless ass on blast.

Funny how the villan casts herself as the hero, blames everyone else, when she's cornered, even though we know, she's all alone in the front row, pulling all the strings in her self-serving puppetshow.

Her version of the truth is subjective, the real truth, a diversion.

Even Oz knew when it was time to come out and reveal the truth behind the curtain.

If you look up gaslighting in the dictionary, there's a picture of her standing there with an evil grin holding a lit match and a gas can.

She's always eagerly waiting for her next victim, sensing, like a snake, slithering in the grass, one bite from her and the venom is fatally convincing. She tests the water to see if you're too dumb to swim, then she pulls you under, drowning you with all of her lies until you come up gasping for air but still clapping that she's the one that brought you back to life.

No remorse, not an ounce, her tears, an illusion, as she intrudes on your weaknesses as an assassin, armed with vengeance on her enemies whose only mistake was turning their back on her as they tried to run away.

There's not one ounce of remorse in those dark, callous eyes. But, she'll quickly tear them up if you confront her with one of her lies.

She'll act so confused, as if she's the one that's been betrayed. It's a sick, twisted game that she plays, by the rules, she of course, made.

She preys on your weaknesses, painting herself the innocent victim, until you're furious at her enemy and do her bidding for her, vengefully.

And then, when she hands you a gun and gives you explicit instructions "take out your sister" you don't ask questions, like an idiot, you just point and shoot. It was you who pulled the damn trigger.

She plays others like she's a queen and they're all human chess pieces. But her foolish mistake was underestimating me. She got beat at her own game, outplayed by a grand master. I wish I could have seen that surprised look on her face, when my last move left her cornered and I had her ass at checkmate.

I guess the real reason she declared war on me is that, I called her out on her bullshit, squashed her desperate attempts to sabotage my family's happiness and threw a wrench into her evil plans.

She threw away her relationship and betrayed me, her own daughter, for a few laughs at my expense, a million lies and a hand full of stolen dollars. I'm nothing like her and I thank God every day, that this apple rolled far away from that tree and thankfully, I took after my father.

I don't manipulate people and use them as puppets. Unlike her, I don't get pleasure from watching people I love suffer.

Don't worry, I've never lost a minute of sleep over losing her, she's not worth it. She's not a mother, I don't even think there's a moral piece of DNA inside of her that even Columbus could discover.

She is however, a miserable drama queen and everyone knows there's a sociopath hidden up under that skin that she happily wears every day like it's Halloween.

Drama free, my life has been much better without her in it. Looking back, I realize, she didn't just do me wrong, she opened my eyes and did me a damn favor.

She played the victim well and turned everyone against one another.

I watch Mommy Dearest now and think, "damn, she was a saint compared to my own mother."

I hope she's pissed off now and fuming, as she's reading this and she can't sleep tonight because my words are burning through her like the water thrown in Oz, from a bucket, at the wicked witch.

I'm sure, as she's reading them, these words will cut through her like the blade of a knife, so excuse me while I slowly pull the one outta my back, sharpen it and use it to cut her outta my life.

I've got grown up things to do, I don't have time to deal with liars. She better watch where she stands from now on because believe me when I say, she doesn't wanna be anywhere near my line of fire.

It brings me extreme pleasure to know that these words are gonna haunt her every day for the rest of her life. But, I promise you, after I write this, there will never be another moment in time that I think about her or that she even crosses my mind.

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©️ Bobbie J Lowrey 2022