Your Weapons

You've only hit me once

Across the face with an open palm

It wasn’t that bad,

What hurt worse was the betrayal

You had never hit me before

You promised me you never would

I’m not going to be that type of mother

You said

But you lied,

Just that one time


You tried to hit me again

But that time I was ready

and I caught your hand

I’m bigger than you, and I could

So you started to bring up the other,

So I brought up mine to stop you


And that was when you hurt me

Don't you dare hit me,

I’ll call the police

As if I could hit you,

As if I would try


I don’t think you know the power you have

Or maybe you do and I don’t want to believe that

Half the time you’re fine

And I can laugh

Some of the time you’re blaming everyone else for the troubles you’ve had

But most of the time you're blaming yourself

Half the time you're hurting us


I used to think you were fine

I used to think you were great

I used to think you were happy

But that was the product of an innocent mind


You tell your family that he was abusive

That he made you feel like trash

But you don’t tell them

That you made him feel that way too

That you were at war

That the least he could do was shoot


Your tears are your weapons

Your threats draw blood

Your shame our pity

And your good days our hearts


But I’m done

I can’t bleed anymore

I’m leaving

I have the scars of you screams on my heart

I promise I’ll call

If you promise not to pick until my soul lies dead in my shell.


But that's not how it will work

And you'll call

And I wouldn’t hang up

Because I’m scared of the things you might do if I do.


You’ve only hit me once

Across the face with an open palm

But what hurt the worst was the betrayal

This poem is about: 
My family


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