You made me so why is it so hard to love me?
I am your seed, your shadow, your son
How can the memories of my hero now be the ghosts of my past

Why did you abuse me?
I was just a kid
Do you hate me?
Does my image reflect the child in you that never grew up?
Was I ever enough?

How could you use the hands that were made to wipe away my tears be the cause of them.
I can remember hearing my sister's tears as you screamed at her in the other room while I was in the room across watching  TV
I remember my mom being against the wall and you say "I'm sorry you have to see this*

Those images and many more are burned in my memory
This trauma I will not let be the death of me.