Spoon Fed (spoken word attempt)

I used to come home from school absolutely ravenous. I'd raid the fridge and the cupboards and the pantry for any kind of snack I could find, like a sewer rat on a field trip at a grocers... But no matter what I shovelled in my own mouth, there was nothing that could fill me up quite like the words of wisdom my mother spoon-fed me. And as I slurped them down, sickly sweet like honey, neither of us realised how beautiful lies would make my bones brittle and my heart weak.

"When boys are mean to you, it's just because they like you" 

This was a suitable reason for a 7 year old being picked on for her pathetically girly pigtails. Yet at 19 when i let my locks fall loosely around my face- only to have an unfaithful man tear them from my skull and use them to drag me around like a rag doll. Not seeing me as a being- just an over drawn smile and two big button eyes that gave no signs of life- I needed to know that this was not love... But instead I took each clenched fist as a kiss and let him smooch every inch of my body until i was covered in another woman's lipstick-mark bruises. 

"The grass isn't always greener on the other side" 

But the grass on the other side was real; whilst I was confined to a fake patch of land where weeds prospered and roses made entirely of words lured me in... and although I knew the size of the thorns I couldn't help but reach out and touch in the hope that once, just once, I'd feel the smoothness of the petals instead of the prick of a needle. My hopes were interrupted by a sharp twang and three drips on my sore bare feet. Little ruby reminders that I was still alive. Little ruby reminders that I wish I was dead.

"You've got to take things with a pinch of salt" 

As a woman in love with a violent man, I misinterpreted my mothers meaning after sweet nothings whispered into my ear like harp songs turned to ritualistic chants bouncing off of the walls and the ceiling so fast and loud, i couldn't help but lay there on the kitchen floor as he poured vicious words, acidic like salt, into my wounds. 

"You're cruising for a bruising" 

And it seemed as though I was stuck on that cruise ship. Believe me I tried to escape but even when I jumped overboard I fell into humongous jaws lined with rusty metal teeth and the harder I tried to fight my way out the stronger the hold became and the deeper the teeth sank into my useless flesh until I had no choice but to let them have their way with me... and then I'd wake up back on the cruise ship, back at square one, with more hand print souvenirs. 

"You made your bed now lie in it" 

So I tried to stop tossing and turning amongst curse word echoes twisted up inside the sheets. Tried to find comfort in the blood splattered mattress too deeply absorbed to wash out no matter how much I soaked and scrubbed. I tried to find reasons to breathe in the tear stained pillow cases but all I found were overwhelming compulsions to stop myself. I tried to find reasons to make you love me in the space between our bodies but all I found were explanations as to why you did not. 

And so i learned not to spoon-feed my daughter romanticisms, or one-liners that I think will fill her, for I know the quench is only temporary and my sugarcoated pills made of good intentions will only choke her in later life and leave her empty. Instead I offer her harsh realities and it is her choice whether to take them or simply chew them up and spit them out. They may have an acquire, sometimes bitter taste, but they will not deceive her nor cause pain and discomfort like a belly ache- instead they will carry her, keep her energy up and her mind heart and soul strong all through her life and she will never starve of her own self worth.