Story in shortI am a daughterStory in short in Free Verse More Like This
To a father who is a pedophile and a mother who didn't protect me
I am a sister
To six siblings, five sisters and one brother
I am a mother
To my little boy, who is my reason to keep on living
I come from physical abuse
Years by the hands of a step father who hated me, and a mother who just watched from the distance
I come from mental and emotional abuse
Loved one second, hated another, and told over and over again how bad, worthless, and unneeded I am
I come from sexual abuse
Scary nights learning things I shouldn't of learned so young , no one believing me till the FBI came
I locked away the pain
And started cutting
I stopped smiling
And learned to fake my way though life
I am not my father, I am not my mother
But my biggest fear is that deep down I am
I wished for death and attempted so many times
The Bus Stop DialoguesI.The Bus Stop Dialogues in Free Verse More Like This
A young man at the bus stop
turns to me and softly asks
"Why aren't you wearing shoes?"
He taps the faded leather
of his suedo-skin
and his eyes smile in a gentle lilt
before his mouth does.
I tell him that I like
to feel the earth breathe.
That textures keep my mind alive
and ticking like a clock.
I tell him that I'm trying to grow roots
so my pale limbs can twist into a tree
(the way L and I talked about it in therapy).
I tell him that my soul is lonely
and the ground is the only thing that's always there.
I tell him that bare skin is sensitive
and stroking it with every (twelfth) step
is a soothing form of self-care.
I tell him that I walk on water
and if I had shoes; I'd drown.
I tell him that my soles bruise
until they match my soul.
I tell him that my bones are soft
and the soil sews them back into reality
when I'm losing grip on sanity.
I tell him that I'm praying
one day I'll step on a syringe.
I shrug my shoulders,
open my mouth and say
"I just didn't feel like weari