Like Mother, Like Daughter

Quiet soul, familiar face,
hand stroking my cheek,
brushing every tear away.
You were my sun,
the brightest star in my sky.
Everyone said I was just like you.
I was proud to be your daughter.

And then you changed.
Your rage was palpable,
painful.
You broke a plate.
You slapped my face,
burning palm print on my cheek.
Bewildered,
what has happened to her,
her that I loved so much?

The pills.
The endless sea of white pills,
placating, dissolving,
taking care of every hidden pain.
A woman devoid of emotion stares at me,
empathy gone.
Every painful memory eradicated
in a sea of small white pills.

Now it's my turn.
I fought genetics far too long.
The pills, the sea of pills
staring me in the face,
accusing, laughing,
I couldn't avoid you forever.
One pill, two pills.
And then the nightmares,
the endless waking nightmare
as I become someone I don't recognize.

Screams in the night,
clawing at my skin and hair,
death approaching on all sides,
and I can't wake myself up.
The pain of every morning,
the stupidity of being stoned,
the feeling that my body belongs to me no longer.
It's trapped inside the pill bottle.

I am just like you, Mother.
I judged you far too long.
And just like you,
I lost myself
in a sea of tiny pills,
thinner than aspirin,
smaller than my fingernail.
I'm trapped in the pill bottle with you,
and I don't think I'll make it out alive.

__________________
But I know the difference between myself and my reflection.
I just can't help but to wonder which of us do you love?