Butterfly

I liked the smell of cut grass.
I was sitting on my porch, picking the flaking pieces of paint of the wood. My neighbors had cut their grass. Mine was overgrown and grew over the path in front of me. My father didn't come home tonight. The moon was high, guessing it was a full moon. Finally I heard a motorcycle in the distance, I heard it humming, closer and closer knowing it was my father. Finally it stopped in front of me and there he was.

The man that was supposed to care, who was supposed to love me was standing their drunk. A lot of the time I asked why me? Most of the time I didn't have any answers. This time I did. I know I have to grow stronger from this to grow into something. I have to learn from his mistakes. I have to learn to be free.