They ask me why I'm sorry,
But how can I reply?
struggling to find the words
but choking and drowning instead.

Memories flash by
muddled with contempt
of his hands around my throat,
of a bloodied fist and bat.

It must have been my fault,
in fact I was told it was.
The bruises and burns
form stripes across my body
and it must have been my fault.

"You're a *****"
he'd say
"A worthless swarthy *****,
and you don't deserve to be here-
you deserve to die"

so prompt and adament in my mind
feeling my weak bones shiver and snap
as they recall a bloodied bat bruising my childhood's skin
again and again
and again
and again
and again
and again...

I'm sorry.
I'll never know what I did
to make them all hate me
to make him hate me
they say we are blood
but does blood have that much hate?
three other siblings-
they did nothing wrong
It was me
and always me
that had to apologize.

I don't know what I did,
so I'll say I'm sorry
I'll apologize for everything in sight
to make up for the little girl
who couldn't be sorry enough.

This soul is covered in ash left behind
from those who've burned me with their selfish lies
with matches in hand and flawed regrets they stand
as they watch the heat that chars my bones
and melts away the last heart-string I own.

No going back, they can't change this obscenity
they made their choice when they walked away,
my love was in their hands,
the love that encompassed my entire being,
now I am forced to give what's left to the dark,
the dark I've been forever running from,
the death I will now gladly welcome.

you knew my eyes
knew that they had been leaking, faulty, allowing my body to flood
with emotion
and then drain
messily, leaving black rivers to dry on my cheeks

but still, you shook me
with your anger
you allowed me to fill up again
but this time i burst