“Am I a brat, I often wonder;
many seem to think so.
They think I hate him because I’m selfish, but
there are many things they don’t know.
They don’t know how he slapped her,
my poor little sister.
They don’t know how I wish that
he was just a random mister.
They don’t know the proper statistics
of what they hell we’ve been through.
Trial is already rare for divorces
and we have been through two.
They don’t know how he’s a cheater
and how he left us for another.
How he left my mom alone and pregnant;
seven months pregnant with my brother.
They don’t know when he talks to me
he makes me feel worthless,
how he’s laughed and mocked me
and made my life a mess.
They don’t know how he looks at me
with hatred in his eyes,
yet I still want him to love me because…
actually I don’t know why.
I don’t know why I need it,
the love he’s never given.
Even though I try to stay away from him
sometimes I feel I need him.
But he’s trapped me in his lies
and his words are blows that are hard.
His mask is convincing even to me
when I’m the one smashing it to shards.
He stomps on my achievements
and leaves me in pieces on the floor.
When I try to leave and put myself back together
he turns and locks the door.
He’s imprisoned me in this hell-hole,
the hell-hole of his mind games.
His games are like jigsaw puzzles
that cause us hurt and pain.
If I get out of here alive
I want you to try to understand how I feel
because everything I’ve said is true
and the metaphors are real.”
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