Dad and some kids, shouldn’t it be okay?

Dad was supportive….well he will be someday.

Sometimes he came home, most days we were alone,

But we hid when he came, we hid in shame.

He said it was our fault mom was dead; he put lies in to our head.

He often stumbled around, loud steps on the ground,

We hid as best we could, in fear to be found.

Dad took us by force, and hit us from door to door,

When we cried, there came more.

There was only one door….no way out,

No one in earshot to hear a shout.

Just for a moment I thought it’d cease,

The pain would be gone, or at least decrease.

My heart was pounding as loud as a drum,

But nothing compared to his breath filled rum.

Oh! If I could escape, how far I would go!

I’d keep going, until even I didn’t know.