Tag: abuse tw

Mother Dearest

Your words coat my spirit

Like trails of grime–

A backed up drain

Full of every touch you didn’t want

And the averted eyes of your mother.

Hairs tangled in a throat

Screaming for an end to silence

Mucked up

Muffled and muddled phrases

Tortured to no end.

You should know better,

But I’ve always felt older;

You should be better,

But you grew up so fast

You never aged at all.

Why am I the one responsible

When you were supposed to protect me?

Why do I feel guilty leaving you

When you never hesitated

To think of yourself first?

I understand,

But that doesn’t make it okay.

I understand,

But that doesn’t make it go away.

Don’t Tell Me to Come Home

When I was a little boy

My father told me

You will never be a doctor

Because you suck at science.

When I was 8 years old

I scraped my knees on expectations

That were never my own

And looked for home

In the smile of every stranger

That didn’t shout at me.

Every absence of a fist

Felt like a kiss

Until I learned that words

Carried their own poison.

I learned to build a home in books

To crawl into the worlds between letters

And drink them in until I could forget…

I cannot tell you of my childhood

Too many memories are like sand

I grab at smoke that settles

Like grains of time too swift.

I’d stop to smell the roses

But her hands were covered in that scent

And everytime I blink

I can’t erase her laughter from the pain.

Don’t ask me to feel at home

When walls have only ever kept me out

Kept me in cycles of forgetting

That life is actually living…

Instead of waiting for an end.