i have a scar, on the inside of my wrist
not from a blade

it's from my own fingernail
that time i tried to peel my skin off
tired, so tired, of being a
person

i told everyone it was from the curling iron

my father hates me
because I remind him
of my mother,

and he hates that
he fell in love with her
only for it to end
the way that it did.



my mother hates me
because I am
my father's daughter,

and she hates that he
believed there was romance
when all it was to her was
a warm body and a fun night.



my father hates me
because he hates my mother.

my mother hates me
because she hates herself.



my parents never failed
to make me feel unwanted,

but now I realize that
it wasn't about me.

they wanted children.
what they didn't want
was each other.

their hatred for one another
outweighed their love for us.



I know now that
all of that pain was aimed
at each other.

it ricocheted off of
the walls I tried to build
to protect myself,
and it hit us instead.

it hurt me so badly

but I realize now that
it was never my fault.