When i was at the age of growth, a prosperous age, a deciding age. I sat head wrapped around a book of letters, of numbers, of impersonal unnecessary confusion.

When i was at the age of importance, an age close to ruptering the innocent, you took control.

For my head, from that day on, never belonged to me.

For my head, from that day became spots of darkness and pain.

When you wrapped yourself around my head and crushed it with your bare hands, you dug your nails so deep, taking what was good, the radiance, the innocence. You took control and spat your venomous words down my throat, from my head to my bones.
You laminated and carved in insecurities and hatred, you made it all seem like a movie.

You and her both.

The look of hatred that filled your eyes is carried by my heart, by my soul, by my very being to this day. When i was crying and oh so scared, i sat there and stared at the depth of black infiltrating my system, my view. Clinging onto the sound of your ******* voice, the hands you flung out, meeting with my pores. The very hands that were supposed to keep me safe.

Crying out, screaming out for mother, mother dearest only gave me a look. On that very day i lost control.

n.b