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Apr 2018
Mother, a specialist has called us,
he believes something is wrong, astray, askew,
but you tell me it's all no reason to fuss.
Mother, your words have caught onto me like the flu.
Mother, you're infecting me to become you.

Father, mother says we cannot go,
to neither the recommended counseling nor therapy,
and for some reason you agree,
but just yesterday you told me,
you resent what she has done to your children.

Mother, I am sorry you have overheard what I've told my dad.
I promise, I never meant to make you sad,
but now you're screaming that I'm glad.
Mother, I do not rejoice!
Please, stop putting these words in my mouth! It is your choice!

Mother, this ordeal can end.
Remember, you were once my friend?
Mother, I know I have grown to fourteen and now I should be more kind and more mature.
Still, you say, I am just mean and for my cold eyes and empty heart, there is no cure.
Mother, your words shape my world, despite my hesitance to believe them.

Mother, I am sorry that I sobbed three years ago because of your screams.
Mother, I am sorry that I turned my back on you while we both fell through countless seams.
Mother, forgive me, please, for I try my best and I am your daughter.
Mother, forgive me, please, for I try my best and I am not my father.

Father, I miss your defense.
But to expect your words in my good chance again is dense.
Father, I have made every excuse I can to make you the favorite parent.
But, father, my lies to myself are apparent.
Father, what happened to the days when your guarded this wretched child of myself from mother's verbal onslaught?
Forever I would have you for forever, I thought.

Father, you will die soon, because you do not care for your body.
Father, I cannot live without you beside me and my family.
Father, protect my brothers and my sisters just a few more years.
Father, don't leave me again yet. You are not him, do not run for a few more beers.

Mother, you brought to me an alcoholic.
Mother, you brought to me his precious child.
Mother, with this baby, now nearly four years old, I still frolic.
My beloved little sister.
But mother, the drunkard threatens to come to us again.
If he tries in court to steal my cherished sister, can we win?

Rapacious alcoholic, with each and every bone in my body, for you, I feel such loathing.
Somebody tried to make me tell him my "complications" and maybe I shall just grant him this if he ever thinks again to care why I left.
04 08 2018
David Abraham
Written by
David Abraham  16/M/Florida
(16/M/Florida)   
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