dear mother,
growing up i thought my dad was the poison
because you told me so
and while he was far from innocent
you chose to play the victim
and i pitied you
i protected you when he would get abusive,
by threatening to call the police
though i never did
because the threat was enough to make him stop
when i was 13 or 14 we fantasized
about ways to kill him
you, still playing the victim
always the victim
in my 20's you called me your therapist
and gave that as the reason
you didn't mind helping with school expenses -
payment for my services
for near daily phone conversations
that always focused on the
way my dad was treating you
you were usually drunk,
and you were always playing the victim
fast forward to
a week ago, you had the nerve
to condescendingly question my participation
in the womens march
how fucking ironic
i won't be you
i won't spend my life playing the victim.
