My mom never fought back
She kept her tongue caged behind her lips
And her fists rest at her side
And her voice never wavered above a whisper
I was not like her
I screamed, I screamed
And punched, I punched
I fought
I fought back with the rage I held for my mother, my brother
Hell, I fought back for me
But it never mattered
Whether you hit back
Or screamed
He would always scream louder
And hit back harder
It never mattered
Not with him
Because he was always stronger
YOU ARE READING
Where The Grass Grows
PoetryA poetry collection about life & death, love, loss, & grief. Written through the lens of a 15-17-year-old girl. These poems are a collection of my story. Take care of them. They mean the world to me.
