emavlaS

Daddy loves me.

Daddy struck me.

Mama woke me before my clock worked orange.

She hummed a lovely telegram pullin back the nightmares my father had tattoed and scarred a broken home.

But how much broker can a poorer child get when daddy charges fees with fists and opened hands.

His singing destruction every night was like that of Hitler's name to jews.

I despised my father's voice yet alone trembled his presence and his concentration before he struck again.

But it hit me,

that my father was a painter whose favorite color was orange.

He made sure to saturate my clock even before i was born.

But mama woke me,

before my clock could worked at all.