I hate their screams, her screams
the loud voices
they ring in my ears, in my head
I stick fingers in my ears
I was reminded of it
I have not recorded these events
What proof do I have?
I may just have made it up
But I did not, I never will
So was it ? was it abuse? violence?
Must I keep in mind what
it stemmed out of?
The hand, the foot, the belt
How often? they love me way more often?
Loved and love
Has their anger lulled
or are they just scared now?
or are they just too tired now?
It’s all in the past so we shall never know?
But you have passed on this anger, this loud voice, this fear in me
I live it all the time unconsciously, it changes, it moulds me
It is you, the younger one that I hated more. More pain more tears. More instances of losing happiness
No, never the physical pain. It did not last, it is the image, my fear(s) and your lack of an apology
that I clearly recall
I must cleanse myself, must not let this make me someone I do not wish to be, ever.
But I hit her, just like you did. I justified it; she spoke bitter words to me, it hurt me.
So I hit her just like you hit me.