We used to fight sometimes
late at night
after too many drinks
too many cigarettes
too many insults
thrown back and forth

First we’d praise each other up
then run each other down
to the lowest notch

There were good times too
But after a while they dried up
The way some things do.

Couple last screams
And I would hear some clanking in my kitchen
Didn’t pay too much attention

She’d go out with her big purse
“Should you be driving?”
“Screw you”

I would go to the window
Yell down at her on the street
“Get outta here you bottle bandit!”

I didn’t want her to go
Not really
She may have been a booze thief
But she had a sort of magic
The way some people do.

I bumped into her years later
In a liquor store
same one we used to go to
I wondered if she remembered all the fun
But the look on her face
underneath the smile
showed the pain.
The way some faces do.
When I reached the age of ten,
I began to insist I was nothing like my father.
My mum laughed,
Stroked my hair,
Rolled sparkling eyes
To summer blue sky
And told me there were worse things to be
Than alike to the man she fell in love with.

But by the age of ten I had seen enough to know
That a stranger lived beneath the skin
Of the man whose few wrinkles
Made the cliff of his face that bit
Whose rough biceps
Turned him into a sort of superman,
Whose eyes were intelligent
And full of delight
At the children who grew up
Propelled by him.

I had seen the stranger,
The ticking time bomb,
Triggered by the scritch-scratching
Of felt tips on paper
Or a disregard for rules
Or a stupid, normal infant tantrum
And mistakes on a piano
Hefted in by my hero on the surface.

Neurosis, they called him,
The monster that lurked in his room
And erupted more often
Than childhood science experiments
Of coke and mentos
All over the wide world.

Superman's kryptonite.

Your father loves you
He can't help it
He's trying
It's not as if it's abuse
It could be worse
You know you're so, so lucky

And yes, I was, I am, so, so lucky
For the beautiful, wise, soul
I was born to

I am lucky to be the daughter
Of a warrior who marched through life
With no armour
And manufactured his own shield

And I am so lucky
To be similar to the man
My mother fell in love with

But I am fifteen years old
And the stranger still bursts out
With the same thick veined anger
I've become so familiar with since birth
(Although it's true, it's gotten much better)

And today I raged at my mother
With a shocking ease that felt
A little
For a little while

Ripping through her words with profanities

And I couldn't stop myself

It was a little bit like leaving myself behind
To the "teenage hormones" in my hurricane mind

And it seems that blue eyes
Are not the only things
I take from my father

Perhaps I borrowed the fury too.
I wonder if my mother is still glad that we are so alike
Emma 6d
Shouting is why,
why the ears ring,
and why the throat hurts.

Shouting and fighting
is why, you didn't notice
the tears, running down
your youngest child's pale face.

You were too busy yelling
at her mom, to realize,
that she was sitting,
on the bathroom counter,
watching her older sister,
thicken the black eyeliner.

You were too mad to hear,
her yell at you to stop being mean to her mother,
whose strength, was

You were too focused on making sure
that her mother knew
that you hated her, to see
her run into your room,
and hide.

You were too pissed
to hear her screaming and crying,
while holding onto
her stuffed animals.

You were too lost in hate
to hear her dog
barking and jumping
to get into the house
to comfort his master.

You were too stupid to realize
that the words you were screaming
at her mother,were
like a dagger, stabbing into
her love, her trust,
and her respect for you.

You were too mad to realize
that your nine-year-old
daughter, had begun,
to hate you.

You were too drunk,
with anger, to notice that
your eldest daughter who rarely cried,
had tears pouring
down her face.

You were too angry at her
for yelling at you,
to see that she,
had scars on her arms.

You were too full of shit,
to see the devastation
you had left
in your path of destruction.

You were too blind, to see
the need for a father
that loved her, and treated her,
like a princess.

You were too full of yourself
to see that it
was the first sunday
since the separation, that she had gone
out to breakfast
with her mom and sister.

You were just too full
of the determination to hurt,
her mother, to see that she
wished that you were dead.

You were too "honest" to see
that the words you were
shooting out of the gun
at her mother
were tearing holes
in her paper thin smile,
in her paper thin disguise.

You were too mad, to see
that your small child needed you,
and you never bothered
to apologize
for fighting in front of her.

You were too much, like yourself
for her to trust you,
because now she,
was scared of you.

You were too much, like yourself
for your own good.
When their yelling cuts through the air
my stomach drops as I desist from doing everything.
pressing my head to the carpeted floor to prepare myself for is to what comes next.
Sometimes it is them, sometimes it is us.
No matter the situation a tormenting quaking stillness shakes this house
leaving everyone, besides you two, frozen and afraid.
Nowadays, every
makes me stop and freeze
so I live consistently hitting pause on my life out of fear.
but that pause button doesn't stop time
it only stops me.
stopping me from moving on.
fs yousaf Jun 24
After our quarrels,
I do believe that it is
a combination of nostalgia
and fear that bring us back together.
We know that an image of another person
can never replace the memories
we have made,
and we fear that one of us
may become happier than the other
if we truly end.
I don't know whats happening but I hope we end up happy
It started this day, that year,
Initiated by chance, and the magic unfolded,
though I was blinded for long,
I thank you for ticking the twinkle in my eye!

The journey started unknowingly,
Flown stupidly, managed roughly,
Grown wonderfully, Spoken continually, untold silently.
The priceless journey stuns me as always!

The colours took time to show,
They came one by one,
Startling me at each stage,
The rainbow came with seven,
You came with limitless to space!

I thank the colour of Festivals,
Boundless thanks for everything you give,
My words may never be enough,
Wish every energy which flows wishes thy life,
filled with happiness and success forever.
Thanks for the special inputs and feedbacks always!
I'm pissed off,
in absolute tears
and wishing that I could take it back.
I want to just curl up
and blast music into my eardrums,
but I don't have my earphones
because they're in the same room as you.
And I cant just go in there,
pick them up and leave,
and I can't just listen to music without them;
it seems almost disrespectful
to do anything but
sit in my pitch-black room.
In silence.
That is what people will expect of me,
and I can't break the silence.
Even the sound of the buttons on my keyboard
are too loud that I'm scared someone will hear
and hate me even more than they do now.

I'm such an idiot

Why do I always do this?
people are just trying to be nice,
friendly, supportive.
They're my parents for fuck's sake!
why cant I manage to get out a sentence
that doesn't make my mother leave the kitchen table
so that she doesn't have to cry in front of her daughters?
That doesn't stop me from knowing though.
And all the while I spit venom from my mouth,
I think to myself;
you asshole, you asshole, you fucking asshole,
look what you did.
Why can't I just accept that I'm bad for everyone I love
and just cut to the chase
and kill myself
before anyone else gets hurt?
Another stupid argument. this could be about literally any day though, because this exact scenario happens at least five times a week.
- 10/06/18
This is us caught in traffic
Maybe next time we could catch the train

This is us with one umbrella
Maybe next time we could share the rain

This is us escaping danger
Maybe next time you could give up the pride

This is us walking a year later
Maybe next time we could share the ride

This is us almost home now
Maybe next time we should think twice

This is us laughing at fire
Maybe next time we could choose ice
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