Fear of Reflections
Fear of Reflections.
I am no amature of suffering.
Sitting in my room waiting.
Waiting for him to come home.
Gravel flies and instantly I shiver.
A thousand questions stampede my mind.
Did I forget to do the disthes?
Did I forget the laundry, vaccuum the floor?
And if I did, did I do them correctly....
Framed in the folds of my darkened room
I hold my breath....
The car door slams, The front door bursts open
I pray my father will forget that I am here..
But countless footsteps fall
My door explodes...
He did not forget.
Crooked nails and calloused hands
grab me by the hair.
A silent tear ran down my face.
I fell to my knees
I begged him please.
Please find in me the love that was lost.
But as I begged and pleaded
he laughed and chanted posionous cackles.
His eyes ablaze with indifference.
"Your a mistake."
"You never do anything right."
"You didn't do this."
"You didn't do that."
And as I sat in my room later
Framed in the moonlight.
I cried at the sight of my reflection
as the evidence of every bitter struggle
decorated every portion of my emaciated frame.
I am no amature of suffering.
Sitting in my room waiting.
Waiting for him to come home.
Gravel flies and instantly I shiver.
A thousand questions stampede my mind.
Did I forget to do the disthes?
Did I forget the laundry, vaccuum the floor?
And if I did, did I do them correctly....
Framed in the folds of my darkened room
I hold my breath....
The car door slams, The front door bursts open
I pray my father will forget that I am here..
But countless footsteps fall
My door explodes...
He did not forget.
Crooked nails and calloused hands
grab me by the hair.
A silent tear ran down my face.
I fell to my knees
I begged him please.
Please find in me the love that was lost.
But as I begged and pleaded
he laughed and chanted posionous cackles.
His eyes ablaze with indifference.
"Your a mistake."
"You never do anything right."
"You didn't do this."
"You didn't do that."
And as I sat in my room later
Framed in the moonlight.
I cried at the sight of my reflection
as the evidence of every bitter struggle
decorated every portion of my emaciated frame.
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