Bruises That Don't Show

You never used a hand, yet my mind is bleeding.

I know that you were hurt, but how are you not seeing?

Please don't raise your voice, please don't scream or shout.

I'm stuck inside this hellhole, why can't I just get out?

I guess all dads are like this, and they just hide it too.

They scream at home and suck it up outside, just like you.

You say Mom is the bad guy, but I thought she was nice.

Apparently the love she gave never did suffice.

 

Now I’m growing up, and I’m seeing what is wrong.

It’s time to leave this place I’ve been stuck in for so long.

I don’t realize it’s abuse, but I realize it’s not okay.

But I don’t understand how anyone could treat their kids this way.

I was afraid of you, of your anger and your hate.

I know you that you won’t love me, because I am not straight.

 

I’ve done my research, and now I know.

Abuse is not just bruises that show.


 

This poem is about: 
Me

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