ChildhoodA Poem by James ProbertBeware, this is not a pleasant read
The belt whips my a*s
As she takes another swing "Ring around the a*s whoopin's" Ain't as fun as it seems I can only take so many hits Before I start to scream The tears I shed for half my life Could drown you in a stream The belt was not the craziest Nor most efficient tool The spatula could do more hurt And it was metal too! With my pants around my ankles (And not in the fun way) My a*s was turned into minced meat Almost every single day Sometimes we did bad deeds Those times I understood the spanks But mostly we were good kids We said our please and thanks If we were "really bad" Big Bertha would come out to play My mom would spank us with a knife It's a wonder we didn't get filleted! Even my oldest memory Is filled with screams and tears I was four and locked inside a room For what felt like years It wasn't always bad But no good times I can tell For not a day went by Where my parents didn't yell Abuse is not just physical My parents knew that well They had many different tactics To extract our little yells They locked us in a cabinet Or underneath the porch Mom's suicidal tendencies Would scar us in our core "You won't amount to anything" My young self didn't know That those words would become a theme To stunt my inner growth The memories are the worst of it Because they still affect today My siblings and I are damaged There's no fixing us mistakes © 2020 James ProbertFeatured Review
Reviews
|
StatsAuthor
|