A poem about my mother

Hot tears running down my cheeks

It's the first time in weeks

She comes in and insults

Salty tears down my front

Im sick and tired of being tough

Of trying to be good

And eating every day

I don't need you knocking on the door

And blowing it in my face

And it's all coming down too fast

I need time to breathe

I need to relax

My aching back needs soothing from your hands far away

My tears need a brushing off my face

So appear in my dreams

And in my every moments thought

But curled up in my bed crying

Im ready to give up