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Kaiden Lewis Nov 26
Twelve.
Such a wonderful age.
The human is still young, yet beginning to gain more knowledge.
But my twelve was different.

My twelve wasn't playing with toys
Or reading books all day
No.
It was about working a hard job under my stepfather's violent hand.

About crying out for help
Yet too quiet to be heard.

My twelve was about finding the power of
Turning mental pain into that of physical
About the box of pills in my drawer
And a bottle of water helping them get into my system

My twelve was about going to sleep
And hoping i'll never wake up
About my mother not knowing her child tried to end his life
At its very beginning.
Even after the 2 years thatr have passed since that day, i don't understand how someone could ever do something like that to a child.
Skyler M Feb 2022
Blinded by a setting sun,
8pm on a summer night,
You say to me,
"My, my, look into those eyes."
Looking back at you is the sun,
His eyes are deep down brown.

Why won't you leave?
I'm begging, please.
Blinded by a marital dream,
Don't see the harm we receive.

Spend the midnight hours,
Rummaging through the old,
You say now,
"I could be free. Maybe one day I will be."
Looking down upon you is...


Wretched hands that don't believe,
Who am I to speak,
Except I'm the one who felt it,
Searing. Burning. Cutting flesh.
To the bone. Through the marrow.
Screaming till the throat is ******,
I know who I am but I'm not real,
An imaginary character to the sun.
Did I wrap the moon around my..
broken and bruised finger?

Why won't you leave?
I'm begging, please.
Blinded by a marital dream,
Don't see the harm you receive.
Sarah Delaney Oct 2021
I remember twirling around in circles, bare feet on the gray concrete floor of the one car garage.
The space filling with the thick smoke from your cigar drifting about, filling both our lungs with the poisonous chemicals.
My five year old self wearing a loose fitted Barbie dress,
“Daddy, look at me! I’m a Princess!” I shout with laughter, posing dramatically.
“Not now, the adults are talking!” You said sternly.
I cower away from you and go back to my childish dancing,
Oh, how badly I wanted your validation,
Your love and attention.
But I was a mere child,
Not worthy of your time.
Perhaps, that was how I learned to be silent,
To be submissive.
How I lost my voice,
But did I ever have one to begin with?
You stole my voice before I even found it.

~sdr
Sarah Delaney Oct 2021
At one point I called you father, and meant it.
You were not my father by blood, simply by marriage.
I had longed for a father figure for as long as I could remember,
A man who would love and raise me as his own.
The good memories were brief snippets of happier times,
While the bad were vivid, distinct memories that lasted for what felt like hours.
A nightmare that I could never escape from,
They were engrained in my memory like the words to my favorite song.
I wish I could forget all the difficult memories and focus on the good times that we had together.
What little they were, anyways.
I wish I could forgive, the way my five year old self did,
Oh, the love and admiration she had for you.
Now all that was left was anger and a bitter resentment.
The anger and confusion that came with the abuse that you perpetuated.
I would never call you Father again, if I ever saw you
I would look at you in disgust and pity,
For you will never know true, selfless, love.
And for that, I feel sorry for you.

~sdr
Amelia Sep 2021
it has been 8 years
since the union
since i've called you dad

so far, every year remains the same

i'll pass you a handdrawn card on father's day, a warm smile on my face
i'll write the words i love you over and over again for years

'you are the best,
  thank you for staying,
    thank you for not leaving
     thank you for taking care of us'


but the next day,
when the teacher asks us to write down a deep, sentimental reflection on our parents and our love for them

without hesitation,
i'll write about my mother
and then pass it up without a second thought

within the far depths of many sleepless nights,
i'll still cry,
whispering
i don't have a father

then i'll ask myself
how cruel i must be

how when its convenient,
you aren't a father, not to me.
J Dec 2020
Maybe my mother and my stepdad were happy once.
but that was a time where they still thought it was freedom
to be out of a household
as I'm thinking now.
there was a time where they could look into each other's eyes
and think
This is who I want to spend the rest of my life with
I want to hate him.
I want to hate him when his hands are on her,
on me
on us.
I want to hate him when he tells us that he doesn't love us
when he says he doesn't love my mother
that he's going to take my sister and brother
his kids he says
and leave.
I want to hate him when he tells me that I'm not his.
He's not my dad.
He's not my other sister's dad either.
that my mother's a *****
that he'd rather **** his cousin than look at my mother again.
We're nothing to him
I want to hate her when she tells him to leave, too
when she keeps talking
spitting on him
telling him that he's worthless
that she's cheating twice as much as he is
when she tells us that it's our fault he's mad
our fault their marriage is failing.
our fault.
I want to hate her when she leaves us alone with him
and comes back to my strongest sister in tears
asking her why she's crying "like a little *****"
I want to hate her when she breaks down because he's now been gone
for six hours
and we don't know if he's coming back.
but I can't hate them for long, because maybe they're right.
it's probably our fault.
I know they were in love once.
when I was young, and his kids hadn't been born yet
and I was living with my grandfather and grandmother
with Lilly and Cherish
that was a time where he could be with her
alone
always.
they were in love with each other once
back when I wasn't cutting
or drinking or smoking
back when I wasn't thinking or talking
back when we were nothing but children
tiny children.
they were in love once, and now there's nothing.
somewhere when they started
falling apart,
they left little string
and as I grow older I find that I follow it
the string leads into why they're still together, but
see
the string will run out eventually.
"For the kids"
"We can try"
"we can make it work"
"I'm sorry"
"I love you"
those all get thinner.
See I think that they were in love at one time
but that was before they knew each other.
maybe he'll be back tomorrow
Skyler M Apr 2019
You can bet I've broken so many metaphorical bones,
You can bet I've collected so many cursed tokens,
You can bet I've been selected to get my head shacked, she said depression,
I said repression,
Cause denying makes the truth all the more shady,
And then I've shaken to fading on the daily,
I'm a killer of a very special Miller,
Or perhaps that was the killer of me.

Now I'm a special boy,
Taken and shaken around like a toy,
You can confirm my death with many people,
Those who build steeples and feasible sentences,
I'm a prototype of a man,
Just watch as I ran to the sand underneath the sparkling grand moon man.

Take me up into the wind,
Bring me to the sinners den,
I will take his rusted hand,
And escape without a stand.

You can bet I've murdered so many beasts,
You can bet I've ruined so many well-lit feasts,
You can bet that I've introspected, to the point where I've retrospected into the infected past,
I keep on regretting going fast,
You're stuck in my head now get out before I pluck you out,
Tuck and roll to **** at everything that I lay eyes on.

Cause denying makes the truth all the more shady,
And then I've shaken to fading on the daily,
I'm a killer of a very special Miller,
Or perhaps that was the killer of me.

Cause denying makes the truth all the more shady,
And then I've shaken to fading on the daily,
I'm a killer of a very special Miller,
Or perhaps that was the killer of me.
A message to that ***** up I called a father.
Paola Verduzco Mar 2019
Every meal is hard to swallow
With you present at the table
My stomach rumbles
Yes, in pain
The swifty of my ways
I absolutely hate eating with you
Yearn to I do, retch
The unpleasant time
In which should be my fathers
My hero, NO MATTER WHAT
You take his place at the table
But never, will you EVER have a place in my heart
Ruined it you have for yourself
Many not once a time
including grandmother, has she despised you.
I’m sorry to say. But it is what it is.
Venn Oct 2018
(tw; family dysfunction)

Who am I?

I like to think that, in every punch,
Every curse,
Every outburst of rage,
There is a little bit of my father.

In every burst of anxiety,
Every obsessive drive for perfection,
Every rejection of genuine emotion,
There is a little bit of my mother.

In every spiteful comment,
In every grudge held too long,
In every egotistical  thought,
There is a little bit of my stepfather.

And even if we are not together,
Fated from the beginning to tear one another to pieces,
We are still one big ******* happy family.
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