An Angels Tragedy

Remorse

The manipulation damaged my soul with every "this time is different." my parents whom should be my captors were more the children in the household. The shouting stings my ear drums in pain. My tolerance became short or with each octave raised of my mother. My mother was imperfect but don't let them behind the curtains, don't let them see her for her insecure self. My father addicted to the only thing to make him feel half way whole, my mother is as much as an addict as he is but she doesn't plead on his knees for the pills like he does. She seeks male validation for she lacked her fathers, they say a father is a women's first love, she didn't have that and since she looks for that reassurance within every man she receives. I didn't grow up with mommy and daddy holding me high in the air and dancing on tip toes, I grew up dragging wondering if my father will be there to get me and wishing to beat abusive step dads with wooden bats. I was not fed pure silver and when you are not fed silver on a golden spoon you learn to lick it off knives, be cautious little one the knife usually cuts such fragility.