When I was 14, I became a thief
(At least Mom thought that)
There was a gun in my house
Mom slept on top of it
One night the gun disappeared
and I became the designated culprit
Now, I hate guns and always have
so it was absurd for me to be blamed
She screamed at me
and tore apart my room
searching for something she would never find 
- something she lost in herself long before I was born
She accused me because she couldn't accuse herself
With each item she threw on the floor, I felt my love fall as well
Blame was easy to give; especially to me
I sat there drenched in tears and heard everything she yelled
I was a "worthless, lying, thief"



Then she left
I started to clean
trying to pick up the pieces she had broken
- trying to heal

She came back
- gun in hand
It had been behind her bed 
but I was still a thief
Now I was just sneaky to her
That night changed me
I used to be sweet and loved my Mom with every part of my being
I became a wretched thief
because that's what she told me I was
Now I go around stealing her pride and dignity any way I can

to make up for the night she stole mine.

03/04/2005