When I read my old poetry
it's like I've stepped into a time machine.
Memories that used to haunt me,
feelings that tied me to the past.
I see scenes of hysteria, longing,
My childhood was not as pleasant as it
Fights rocked my world,
I could see my mother and father
Her passive aggression,
I see all the kids I beat up,
the broken noses
and shattered egos.
I see the tears and the bruises.
The men that scared me,
the women I hated.
I see brothers fighting fathers,
sisters slapping sisters.
I want to scream.
My past is filled with death and betrayal.
One after another.
I am a flat line.