My pillows wept when

The bedtime stories turned

Sour. The innocent eyes crying

Tears of bitterness.


For years watching the others

Playing with the strong men

They called father. The small

Eyes looking for a win.


I am a vessel for sadness

And rejection. Not wanted by

The father who made me.

Wanting not for God’s love.


The dreams composed of rum

Were more important than

The tiny, innocent child.



The great awakening came.

Steadfastly, steadfastly the

Tears fell. The court says nothing

To a deadbeat father.


The mother, strong and brave

Squished the spiders for the 

Tiny child with a crunch.



I am strong. Nothing can shake

The bravery in the heart of the 

Lion on the hunt. The hunt for

A better future. The hunt for acceptance.


Life drowned in whiskey is

No life at all. Life snuffed out

Like a cigarette butt is snuffed

In permanence. 


Dreamers sleep to wish a 

Better life. Sleep, Sleep, Sleep.

The sweet release from all

Of life’s imperfections. 



This poem is about: 
My family


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