Father,

I was still a child when you took your lies,

And slid them between my fourth and fifth ribs.

I cried that night,

And for the first time I didn’t wish you were there to hold me. 

I still see echoes of you,

In my mother’s tears,

The bitter laugh of heartbreak,

The knife I hide in my bed.

You took so much from me,

Left me shattered in your wake

(But you still said you loved me)

 

This poem is about: 
My family

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