HURT
HURT
As a young child I thought it quite normal
For Moms and Dads to drink and fight
The cuts and bruises soon went away
And for a while everything seemed alright
But again, much too soon, it would happen
An innocent child, living a world of fright
Crying into my pillow and holding my ears
Hiding the screams and hits of the night
Oblivious to the effects of the their actions
A little heart weakens by this lesson in hate
A witness to anger and the following pain
A young mind believes this to be their fate
The days of my stolen youth have long past
Left with a life void of any emotional say
My memories are the ghosts of yesteryear
And I'm forced to live with them every day
The scars inflicted on my soul are invisible
But in my eyes, the pain is readily shown
My fears force me to live a life of solitude
Unable to love, yet tired of being alone
Ron Kostiuk (2009)
"The ideals of our children are a testament
to the examples set by their parents"
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