The Gist of the Nightmare

The Gist of the Nightmare

My childhood was memorable; that’s the best I can say.

I never have had the chance to live that care-free way.

A broken home, I had that. Check.

A drunken man, he did it. He broke her neck.

My mom was gone, dead, put to rest.

My dad was physically present at best.

Before that things were already confusing.

At three years old, battling sexuality profusely.

Locked in his room for hours on end.

He was my babysitter, my sinister friend.

I thought it was normal, to be touched that way.

I thought it was normal, in that mindset I’ve stayed.

My dad took us in, burdens in his single life.

He took in a hartlett.

She was a lousy mother and wife.

Emotionally, she scarred me.

Physically, she bruised me.

The little whore cheated, this time she got going.

My dad gave us up, it was a long time coming.

Away from the monsters; they left me alone.

I now lived in a place I could truly call home.

The wings of my mother and the hands of my father,

were both put to rest with the help of my grandmother.

The scars they have stayed; forever they have lasted.

hBut my dreams and hopes have never been blasted.