I was carrying a castle Lego set,
Walking into the room with hands full,
But the room was messy,
The floor a trap.
I tripped,
A misstep,
And the castle crashed,
A thousand tiny pieces scattered—
Shattered like the calm before the storm.
Her eyes burned with fury.
And then—
The first blow hit.
A slap to my face.
Her hand, heavy and fast,
Like a thunderclap that split the air.
She grabbed me by my hair,
Fingers tight like claws,
Yanking me down,
Screaming.
Punches to my head,
Fists that felt like bricks.
And when I didn’t fall fast enough,
She slammed my face into the wall.
The concrete cold and unforgiving.
She didn’t stop.
She kicked me.
Stomped on me.
Before she shed the weight,
She weighed two hundred pounds or more—
And her anger had no limits.
She climbed on top of me,
Crushing me beneath her,
Screaming in my ear—
Words that were sharper than the blows.
A blur of rage and hatred,
And I couldn’t breathe.
My father,
He came when he heard the noise,
Dragged her off me,
Locked her away,
But the damage was done,
And my body bore the marks.
Bruises, scratches, teeth imprints,
Pain that carved its memory deep.
But the hate didn’t stop there.
I remember everything.
When I lied about something—
Something I can’t even recall now.
And she made me clean—
The whole house.
From top to bottom.
Exhausted,
I collapsed into the bathroom,
My body aching.
When she found me,
Resting,
She turned the world to fire.
The beating began again—
She screamed,
Threw appliances at me,
Shoved me against the walls.
My head was shoved into the toilet,
Into the sink—
Water and metal,
Cold and suffocating.
She bit my ears,
Screamed so loud,
Everything went muffled.
Her words were poison,
Sharp and biting.
The towels hit me,
Wetted and cruel,
Like whips lashing my skin.
She sprayed cleaning products—
In my face,
On my body,
Tears mixing with chemicals.
And I had no escape.
I remember everything.
I remember what it felt like to be nothing but the target of her rage,
Her disappointment wrapping itself around me like chains.
I remember her words—
Filling the empty spaces in the house,
Breaking me down,
Every scream,
Every hit,
Until all I could do was survive.
But the hardest part—
Was that even after it all,
I still wanted her love.
And I couldn’t escape her shadow,
Even when the bruises healed.
This poem reflects some of the most painful moments of my childhood. It was hard for me to even consider sharing these memories, as they involve abuse and neglect from my mother, who was supposed to be a source of love and safety. The vivid memories of fear, pain, and helplessness are not easy to face, but they are a part of my story. Writing this poem was a way for me to process and confront the trauma that has shaped who I am today.
While it was difficult to express these experiences, I felt it was important to bring them to light, not for pity or sympathy, but to acknowledge my past and the strength it took to survive. In sharing this, I hope to connect with others who may have faced similar struggles, to remind them that they are not alone, and that their pain is valid. This poem is both a confession and a form of reclaiming my voice.
Now, I do have another confessional poem that I would like to upload, but I am worried about how some may feel towards it. I'm a bit nervous because it's longer and goes even further into what I've experienced with my mother and how she's treated me and my siblings. It's a painful topic, but I believe that it's important to get these feelings out and to let others see how deep the relationship is that I have with her.
