2017 but still feels like I'm stuck in a day dream. 

I try to be me and refrain from the pain and gluttony I see. 

Truth comes but chooses to never talk to me. 

So lies linger laying heavy holds on my hated heart. 

Take apart my smile, give it to the boy who lives his life in denial. 

For he was just a child when he felt the dagger dive deeper in his spline

then any day dream ever could. 

Are you good? Are you okay? Words they never got to say. 

Pray that I make it into heaven, pray this boy makes it to age eleven. 

He was "blessed in" a family like this. 

Blessed in betrayed beatings leaving bloody bruises blue and black

feom drunken attacks. 

Dressed in drenched sickening sinus long sleeves see stains as blood seeps. 

He sweeps his pain away begging to one day be taken away. 

2017 and I still feel this way. 

                                                                           E. G…

This poem is about: 
My family