Assignment #18 - Lifes Hostage

It's the way his fist struck the door

Momma leaving with only two of her kids

The way the police showed up before she came back

The stench of regurgitated alcohol on the floor

The way the tear stained my fathers face

Seeming out of place

It's my "brothers" hand at my throat

And the serrated words he used to cut me

It's my "sister" ceasing to exist for 13 years

Then kissing my cheek like she knew me

It's the way I never feared the dark

Or being punished for my mistakes

The way I never needed to sleep in my parents’ bed

It's the persistent tears I never shed

The way I see people, very much alive

That never seem to live

The way I refuse to show emotion

Be it pain or love

It's the way these things go hand and hand

Never escaping Memory

The way Memory puts a gun to me

And tells me who to be