Hiding behind the bedroom door
sensing terror, feeling worn.
the childhood oppression.
“Shhh, don’t say a word, to family or friends.
Only speak amongst your immediate of kin.”
“Don’t talk back, stand up straight;
Eat every fucking morsel on that godforsaken plate!”
The monster is not hidden underneath your bed,
he’s staring straight through your pretty little head.
Stifle those tears forming in your eyes,
That rifle hidden in the closet comes as no surprise.
“Don’t wake Daddy if he’s had too much to drink.”
If you did so, we’d all be standing on the brink.
It was a time of much distress,
that caused us all to be depressed.
We’re all grown up now, and went our separate ways,
never to be discussed ever again;
For that man called Daddy had died anyway.
Flashbacks from this time
cannot be easily erased,
that child inside me…
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