Petrichor

Do you know?

Do you know the feeling of your mother disowning you?
Calling you a bitch, a slut, every name under the sun.

Do you know the feeling when you come home and she's drunk?
The stench of alcohol pouring from her mouth, each word as foul as the last.

Do you know the feeling of your mother threatening that she'll kill herself?
Getting the butcher's knife out of the kitchen drawer and putting it to her throat when you're only eight.

Do you know the feeling of your mother raising her hand at you?
About to bring it down on you and strike you hard.

Do you know the feeling of hiding away?
In a place she'll never think to look so no more harm can come to you.

Do you know these feelings?
Because I sure as hell do.