Here Is My Truth
Daddy got mad
I got hit.
Mama got mad
I got the belt.
There is a pattern here.
My brother got mad
I tried to stop him.
Instead I got beat
With a hand to my throat.
There is a pattern here.
It’s the worst I’ve felt,
This cold, crippling fear.
Now I get mad
I remind myself
To keep my hands to myself
Because when I get mad,
I get hit.
I get so scared.
I turn mute and cold.
To me, ten years later still
Anger means pain
To a broken little girl
Hiding inside me.
I got hit.
Mama got mad
I got the belt.
There is a pattern here.
My brother got mad
I tried to stop him.
Instead I got beat
With a hand to my throat.
There is a pattern here.
It’s the worst I’ve felt,
This cold, crippling fear.
Now I get mad
I remind myself
To keep my hands to myself
Because when I get mad,
I get hit.
I get so scared.
I turn mute and cold.
To me, ten years later still
Anger means pain
To a broken little girl
Hiding inside me.
♠ ♠ ♠
This is a glimpse of my real childhood. I tend to hide it from most because they deny everything they've done to me. They made me believe I was to blame. I'm not. But that doesn't take the scars away.