As I watched the clock, dazed in a stare,
Holding back the tears as the classmates are screaming,
"One minute and we're leaving,"
As the kids packed and the teacher said,
I heard the words that I must dread,
"Have a nice weekend" seemed to roll off the tongue,
But for those kids who go home to yelling, their day was done,
Sadly I sat and thought about how I knew,
How that four word saying for me, could never be true,
The time had come, the unwelcome bell rang,
The other kids fled from the classroom, leaving me mortify deranged,
I stood up, dragging my feet,
Through the wooden doorway with an non-ecstatic heartbeat,
Forcing a smile as I wish my friends goodbye,
Saying the dreaded words again, me knowing it’s a lie,
Following the man who was calling my name,
Telling me my ride was here, managed to feel like a stabbing pain,
As the man pointed, I saw the car,
Wondering if the man inside had hit the bar,
I get in not wanting to go,
My eyes about to drown with tears, as the redness showed,
Taking deep breaths, while counting to five,
Always maintained the sadness and kept the tears tired up inside,
Closing my eyes and dreaming that this was no big deal,
That a court order went through and this was some load of spiel,
but as a kid, your old enough to dream, wish, and want, but you’re not yet old enough to get,
And as a kid, that what I most regret,
Because I’d give anything to turn the other way,
To not get in that car, to not suffer the beer's pay,
But as much as I wish I could say that what I do,
I get in; still not ready to cruise,
Getting struck by the thrown glances and stares,
For my eyes could not meet, with the face I cannot bear,
Doing nothing but keeping my eyes glued to the floor,
Only to perk up by the sound of the opening door,
Greeted by the face so similar to my reflection,
Same eyes, same birthday, same ashamed life description,
Its funny how alone I can be so frightened,
But the moment I see her face is the moment I become a titan,
Gazing through the window, there’s only one thing I see,
The only thing I’ve wanted for years, to switch lives and live the true story of me,
You see those kids, the ones running to their cars,
Only to leap into their parents wide open arms,
I used to be that kid, that 6oz baby he used to dreamed of,
The only difference is, somewhere down the road I became unloved,
We arrive to the place he calls home,
Where 14 yr old girls walk around like 4 yr olds, scared of being home-alone,
It doesn’t matter if you know every hole, every crack, every missing tile,
That not the problem, and that not why we won’t smile,
Getting ordered to make dinner, I do what I’m told,
To do anything else would be just way too bold,
Placing a pot on the rustic stove,
As my sister heads down the hall, to get unclothed,
Zoning out over the boiling pots,
Only hearing the tick from the big hand of our grandfather clock,
But the silence is cut short, as my heart is being dropped,
My muscles tense as the spoon hits the floor making a "plop,"
I jump to the screech of my sister’s scream,
The thought itself, jolts the nerves of a scared teen,
Before I could move, it happened again,
Followed by footsteps running to the den,
Peeking out of the kitchen to see whets the fuss,
Only to see her running to the door, like she must,
With only 10 ft behind, and a vase in his hand,
Before I could blink, he catches up and chucks it at her as hard as he can,
Pieces shattering about as they hit the floor,
The man with fistful of her hair, while her hands on the door,
Her eyes go lifeless, as her body goes limp,
Her grip of the door comes off within a glimpse,
I scream at the sight, as my knees hit the floor,
Just watching the blood from her head trickle in my hands some more,
Yelling her name and shaking her body,
As he giggles, and says "ops, ‘I’ve done something naughty,"
Jumping up ready to punch him in his ear-to-ear grin,
Before I see movement from one of my sister’s limbs,
"You lucky son of a bitch" as I quickly let out a sigh of relief,
Not caring one bit, if those words are going to start some beef,
And with one swing, he threw me back and pinned me to the wall,
Lifting me up as if I were some doll,
His mouth spitting saliva as he yelled to me,
"What did you say," as I clawed at his hands trying to breath,
Things are getting blurry, as my legs struggle to kick free,
My sister now stumbling to get up and look at me,
Holding her head and staring into my eyes,
Winding her leg and kicking him right between the thighs,
Seconds later I dropped to the floor,
Gasping in oxygen, as my sister says "run before he gets up for more,"
We knew the routine,
For his anger light was flashing green,
Run to your room, get there before,
Push the bed frame in front of the door,
Lock the windows, close the blinds,
Drain out the yelling, listen to the silent wind chums,
Franticly tiring to do what we do best,
Making it there is the true test,
No one around to hear the screams,
No one understanding enough to know what the shaking that won’t go away means,
As we scatter around, knowing we're trapped,
We take a moment, before we collapse,
We catch a glimpse of ourselves in the mirror,
Of our terrified faces, our friends and family know so dear,
Crouching in the corner, scared to death,
As we listen to the pounding, and his heavy breath,
Holding hands, not having to talk,
For we both were thinking the same thing, we have to be each other’s rock,
With the crackling door frame,
Our time of being safe was shortly drained,
The man stubbing through the door, with whiskey on his breath,
Grabbed me with his arm, and started getting a hit of his own "meth,"
Avoiding eye contact, not willing to pout,
The slightest word, could be the one to knock me out,
My sister yelling and pounding on his back,
Only to get louder with the sound of each slap,
I fall to the floor begging him to stop,
As he lifts up his foot and my stomach gets shot,
I let out a scream and curled into fetal,
My stomach getting struck by a thousand needles,
Looking at the wall, my body refusing to move,
As I keep getting kicked by his steel toed shoes,
Spitting up blood as my brain had accepted,
This is the end; I was meant to be neglected,
I just wanted him to do it, kick me till I’m done,
Just finish me off; just have two more minutes of fun,
I’m tired of this life; I’m tired of him,
I’m tired of not being normal, not like my friends,
Just as I gave up and accepted defeat,
I see my sister pick up a knife and mumble something through her teeth,
He put his foot down and started to back away,
As I rolled over, but couldn’t seem to get up from a lay,
She yells down to me, asking if I’m okay,
Pointing the knife at him, telling him if he tries anything, he’s going to pay!
I get on my stomach and pull myself to my feet,
Holding my sides, gritting my teeth,
Not even daring to take her eyes off him,
I glance out the window, and see the sky getting dim,
As we take a few steps and slip out the door,
We start to hear the sound of his rusty old Ford,
Grabbing my hand and pulling me with her,
We jump in a bush, while every hair on our bodies starts to shiver,
We take a few seconds after his truck passes,
And we start running down the road faster than molasses,
We ran to a house where someone was home,
And headed up the porch praying that it was someone he hadn’t known,
Knocking on the house, hoping they will help,
Greeted by a face that knew what we had dealt,
Her brittle bones and her Christmas sweater,
One look up and down and her eyes began to weather,
A brief explanation, was all we had to give,
Before she waved her arm inside the place that she lives,
Pulling us inside and welcoming this random arrival,
As she picked up the phone and started to dial,
"Yes 911 please..." she seemed to say in the phone,
As she looked over at us, shaking her head and letting out an apologetic moan,
And that was the moment that changed my life forever,
That woman, that house, that knitted old sweater,
Till this day, we don’t know exactly what happened, or what we did,
But telling us has the same man underneath is a big fib,
Because rusty old cabinets full of police reports,
My mom desperately fighting for child custody in court,
Home phones with cut wires,
Hours of sitting in offices of different pathological liars,
Concert floored bedrooms with boarded windows,
Countless tears dropped upon our pillows,
Weekends locked within attacks and closets,
No food, no water, only mice deposits,
Child memories that we should of had were wept,
Because promises of "that was the last time" were never kept,
The echoing screams of my sister and brother,
The bawling face of my distraught mother,
All the bribes you made to me, to keep my loyalty,
Are all memories that will forever haunt me,
But for you, it’s a glance from your past,
And then a chug from your alcohol aroma glass,
Never having the courage of facing the reality,
Of how messed up you have made me,
But there’s a silver lining knowing that thats all you have made me,
And for that I should be more than happy,
Because id rather you make me into that, than make me into you,
Because when I have kids of my own, ill know exactly what NOT to do,
But for now I’m sitting in a therapist’s chair,
Going over every last detail for her to hear,
She’s trying to find a reason or even a clue,
But when it comes down to it, we all knew,
You see the matter of the fact is, you lost the title "dad",
With the very first drink you had.
But telling us has the same man underneath is a big fib,
Because rusty old cabinets full of police reports,
My mom desperately fighting for child custody in court,
Home phones with cut wires,
Hours of sitting in offices of different pathological liars,
Concert floored bedrooms with boarded windows,
Countless tears dropped upon our pillows,
Weekends locked within attacks and closets,
No food, no water, only mice deposits,
Child memories that we should of had were wept,
Because promises of "that was the last time" were never kept,
The echoing screams of my sister and brother,
The bawling face of my distraught mother,
All the bribes you made to me, to keep my loyalty,
Are all memories that will forever haunt me,
But for you, it’s a glance from your past,
And then a chug from your alcohol aroma glass,
Never having the courage of facing the reality,
Of how messed up you have made me,
But there’s a silver lining knowing that thats all you have made me,
And for that I should be more than happy,
Because id rather you make me into that, than make me into you,
Because when I have kids of my own, ill know exactly what NOT to do,
But for now I’m sitting in a therapist’s chair,
Going over every last detail for her to hear,
She’s trying to find a reason or even a clue,
But when it comes down to it, we all knew,
You see the matter of the fact is, you lost the title "dad",
With the very first drink you had.
