When I was little,
All I wanted is a little bit of love.
But instead, my heart was struck.
Some days, I wished I never existed,
Those days were when my father was our only witness.
What do you do when the witness is the abuser?
Or if you make any move that your mother might end up being an accuser?
My father is me and my mothers abuser.
He hits her in front of me, and hits me in front of her.
From a deep depression, how did I cope?
I hug my mom and see a little bit of hope.
She always tells me that she’s sorry and that I’m her only piece of hope.
I guess she doesn’t want to leave because he’s the only place where we could stay.
So as I look towards the sun from a distance,
I question everything including my own existence.
But what’s worse being beaten or watching your mother pleading everyday for a place where I could play.
I think the worst part was that I never had a say.
Picture: Momentary laps of sanity WordPress Blog.