with your watchful stare,
Watching me make mistakes,
Never afraid to criticise my actions.
Talking about my mistakes,
Laughing at them,
Making me feel worthless,
And then, my dearest mother,
You favour my lovely brother,
Always pointing out how great he truly is,
And how much I'll never be him.
You probably don't realise how much it hurts,
Don't be afraid to kill me a little inside,
With each criticism.
Always saying *don't talk to me like that"
You talk about me behind my back...