My Family…

My dad is a drinker, he drinks all the time, He doesn't give a damn if it’s poison or wine. He’s paranoid, frantic, asks questions all night, Where did you go? Did she look at a man? Did she ever leave sight? He smashes the furniture, shatters the glass, He beats down my mother and treats her like trash. She wakes me at midnight, ‘get up, we must leave’- But it’s only pretend, just to make him believe. She covers her bruises so no one can see, The only one holding the truth is just me. And mum isn’t there. She’s a ghost in the day, She never hears a single word that I say. I’m quiet, I’m careful, but she turns on a dime, Shifting from freezing to fury every time. She never sees tears, she never sees fears, Just the swallowing down of the grief and the years. Our family is normal, she whispered, she lied, When I found out the truth, I just hung my head and cried. I walked through the fire alone every day, Not one single friend lived in this violent way. While they go to work, I’m left with the minder, To them, she’s all smiles, she couldn't be kinder. The front door clicks shut, and the monster comes out, She beats me, she drowns me, and seals up my shout. From eighteen months old, and I never told a soul, When abuse is your baseline, you accept the control. No standing in corners, forced to stand at the door, Counting the glass panes since the age of four. The car ride, the panic, the counting, the prayer, A child's magic armour to pretend someone's there. Now look at the map where the wiring frayed, The trap that was built and the rules that were made. The world was a warzone, the pathways unkind, With bullies who chased me and left scars behind. So you can trace it right back to the very start, To what had to split, what set me apart. The counting, the order, the numb closing in, The heavy dark weight of where it had to begin. I was never going to be ‘normal’, never be free— The price of surviving was OCD and BPD.