He used to hit us.
Not too much though,
Only a little.
I was too loud.
I took up all the space.
He hated it.

I’m still loud now,
But it’s different.
Now I know why
The words still spill out
Even when I’ve nothing to say.
I remember that feeling
of a chain on my voice box.

I still jump at every loud noise, they seem to follow me,
Echoing around the streets, screaming at me.
But it is that fear of the unknown keeps me safe, sharp.
And when a hand grasps my shoulder on the sidewalk outside a bakery
I snap. Pull and twist it behind their back, forcing them to their knees
Before noticing it’s just Andy, but I still don’t feel too sorry. I can’t.
He should know better that to sneak up on me like that by now.

I pull at this skin and globular fat that clings to my bones
I rip at my brown locks like I’m weeding a garden
I scrub my skin till shallow crimson rivers fall from my flesh,
Brush my teeth till the red seas part my gums. Not still, but now.
It makes it worth the past, if you can improve your present.
If you can mature enough to realize that what happened,
Happened for a reason, one you’ve plucked out of your life.
Or one you’ve learned to embrace and apply with confidence.