Empty

I may not have had it off the worst,

I actually had it better than most,

but it was still a horrible way to grow up.

My mother was a meth head and my father,

well lets just say he was insensitive. 

My mom beat my father with a pool stick right in front of me when I was only 4.

By the age of 6 she started bringing a man named "Robbie" into our home,

I never really liked him.

As a young girl I had frequent nightmares and would go crying to my mom's door,

But everytime I would get sent away by Robbie AKA the boogeyman.

By the age of 8 we moved to West Virginia with him,

that's when it got bad.

He beat my mom bloody on a daily,

even beat my little brother too.

I was tiny like a mouse compared to him,

the great big bear.

He scared me but that was my family,

he didn't start beating me and torturing me...

Until I attacked him for beating my mom and brother.

I'll never forget the day he almost killed us.

My brother was at my Aunt's house and me and mom were home.

I was breathing to loud for his liking and he started punching me,

and my mom started yelling at him so he beat her.

Slammed her body on the floor repeatedly until she seemed lifeless.

I jumped on his back beat him on the head with my tiny fists,

but he just fung me off of him like a cow shoos a fly away. 

I landed head first onto a fire place,

Leaving the scar on my temple that I am rubbing while writing this.

My mother was broken, 

she was hopeless.

Too scared to ask for help,

and too scared to be alone. 

I stopped telling people cause when I did he'd beat my mom,

He began making me watch. 

I may not have been the worst off, 

but I didn't exactly have it easy.

This isn't a formal poem but this is my poem,

this is my story..

this is me.