Hurt, Being Hurt

ericboydblog:

Two fists held up, guarding my face
It is a school night, I’m tired
The front door’s open, unhinged
I just want to survive this night

It was my birthday recently
I do not remember my age
My father says he has no son
Something that I knew years ago

My mother on the floor, bleeding
She gets up, runs to the kitchen
He reaches back, big hay-maker
I will not hit him, I’m scared to

I brace myself but he falls down
My mother holds an iron pan
He tries to get up, I pin him
Watching as tears dot on his face

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