Poem: Letters From Mother

My Email should not be my Enemy.
Letters from Mother, causing Pain in my Heart;
Living, pulsing, pain.
"I'm too old to still be hurt by words," I think,
knowing all the while it's not true.
Mother rarely cared about Me.
Mostly she cared about the dillusions
she made in her head.
Pictures of a "happy family."
No, she never tried to commit suicide,
when I was a baby.
Not to get away from the cruel fists
of my Father.
No, she never broke promise,
after promise, after promise,
after promise, after promise,
to Me.
For as long as I can remember:
The Promise-Breaking Mother,
The Liar Mother,
The Selfish Mother.
Her only reparation was
Money or Toys.
No apology.
No respect.
No validation.
No freedom for Me.
Money or Toys?
I got to pick one,
as a child,
but as an Adult?
Nothing.
But a Mother who keeps her word?
Well,
it's too late for that,
now.
A Mother who cares more about Me,
than whatever drunk penis
she is dating at the time?
Sorry, son, it's too late.
Yes, I hear the anger in my words.
Feel the warm, salty, tears on my face.
For all her Abuse and imperfections,
Biology demands that I love her.
So I do.
So I have to remain Celibate;
Dare not to repeat
her mistakes.