This time instead of hearing the sobs reverb throughout the house I walked into the cave of emotions itself to see the hurt take place. I saw her crying on the old mattress where love happened, where late night talks happened, where giggles from children could be heard. Where he broke the news that shattered her every bone, crushed her lungs, and ripped her heart out. And I, a broken one myself could've done something, anything to help. But I didn't. I just stood there watching her break down more and more. Finally I said my apologies and walked out, a numb feeling beginning to wash over me. It was in that moment that I needed relief. The monster that was in my father is also in me. I've made the scarlet lines become my escape and my fight against the monster. Who's to say I am the monster and I'm no good for anyone, not even my crying mother.
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Ignored // writings
PoetryWhat's the point of an introduction when there's no grand story to tell?