After the blood stops running
And the relief is over
An almost impossible to describe feeling takes control.
Its anger, regret
Its sadness and pain
Its how could I do such a horrible thing?
Its panicky hiding
Heart rate increasing
Oh my God how do I hide this?
But then after a bit
when bad feelings set in,
The cycle continues again.

My normal is Bruises
And second hand smoke
And smelling like ****
My life is a joke.
My normal is Hiding
My Injuries from view
And cleaning and cooking
I wish somebody knew
My normal is pleading
and praying
to make it all stop
and walking on eggshells
and trying not to pop
My normal is different
It's nothing like yours
And someday I'll leave it
And try out yours

You're not abusive
But if thats true then why do i feel a stomach churning sense of dread when you walk through the door?
You're just protecting me
But if thats true then shouldn't I feel safe?
You're just teaching me discipline
But I thought parents weren't supposed to hit their kids to the point of bruises.
You deserve my respect
But why don't I deserve yours, Mom?