They ask me why I'm sorry,
But how can I reply?
struggling to find the words
but choking and drowning instead.

Memories flash by
muddled with contempt
of his hands around my throat,
of a bloodied fist and bat.

It must have been my fault,
in fact I was told it was.
The bruises and burns
form stripes across my body
and it must have been my fault.

"You're a *****"
he'd say
"A worthless swarthy *****,
and you don't deserve to be here-
you deserve to die"

so prompt and adament in my mind
feeling my weak bones shiver and snap
as they recall a bloodied bat bruising my childhood's skin
again and again
and again
and again
and again
and again...

I'm sorry.
I'll never know what I did
to make them all hate me
to make him hate me
they say we are blood
but does blood have that much hate?
three other siblings-
they did nothing wrong
It was me
and always me
that had to apologize.

I don't know what I did,
so I'll say I'm sorry
I'll apologize for everything in sight
to make up for the little girl
who couldn't be sorry enough.