They say that home is a person, right?
Cause according to this saying
the only home I had has died,
two years ago by getting involved in a fight
trying to save me from my so called Father,
who still comes to my bed at night.
He hurts me and so, every day I've cried,
but I'm 6, and old enough to understand
that he plays power and I, the weaker side.
Scared, unprepared for his unpleasant lust bites,
I've wanted to push him away and fight him too
but I'm scared of death, and so I've never tried.
Only at evening does my room see the sunlight,
and it makes me sadder for the sun doesn't come
to rescue me from such hideous sight,
Neither the moon looks at me, at my miserable life.
Maybe I'll just walk out of the back door once again.
Maybe this time I won't be caught, and be kept tied.
YOU ARE READING
IDIOMATIC
PoetryI have some things in my mind that I still don't know about. Sometimes they just come out as words through a pen on a page (or in my notes app too). But yeah, if you, by a needle in a hay chance, have read the (deleted)poem book I wrote before this...
