my dreams forgotten
the moment my eyes open

frightening sleep induced
realities
my mind keeps secret
to protect
my abused brain
from more horror
and monsters

when i have remembered
they are carved into
my body
i numb to the memory
it is too damaging
to my brittle soul
to hold onto what my mind
has circling beneath
my consciousness

daydreaming is a favourite past time of mine
i swim in the fantasies of a life
i would bury my full attention
into
to at least, in one place in this world,
though not real,
i could be, just once,
someone other than what i was

a mutilated, defective
little blonde haired human
in a home
where maniacs mocked and violated
the innocence i only possessed
for the first few years of my life
oppressed and beaten
to a point where i was
swollen and blemished
where i didn't even know
who i was
only a victim of hatred
and abuse carried from
generation to generation

I MADE IT STOP.

I ended the cycle.

I screamed until I was blue
and made the world that is
domestic violence
halt in its tracks
and told it no.
never. again.
will you harm another
little human.
will you harm,
an adult who was still
in the quick sand
of abuse.

i got out.
(at 24).
i set myself free.

jagged pieces
that are mine now,
not theirs,
put back together
into the puzzle i was
before i emerged
into what became my existence.
my innocence stolen
but not forgotten
i reclaimed fresh air
again,
let it
give new life
into my lungs.

breathing out the black tar
of neglect

breathing out the
white picket fence,
the red brick one storey,
a facade, the mask needed, to
which gave way to allow
my father to hurl everything
he could our way,
so we could burden
his own deep, harrowing pain,
where he was beaten with a belt by his father,
and controlled mercilessly by his mother.
he gave onto me.
us.
our little family.
completely broken.
it could never be repaired.
ever.
we. are. separate.
and we. are. broken.
apart.
for good.
for now and for later.
and it’s all your fault.