"Silenced Home"

Sit here and ponder ask god questions as if he was my father Walk down a path not of shame, but of growth A home painted with pictures of misery, A home filled to capacity by being alone. A chamber all on its own. Walk into my new home where just last year didn't exist, where my home was in existent. A place not belonged by me, but of the government’s fund A shelter but not a home, a place where I knew my mother and I didn't belong. Last year was breaking point, had to live in a place and not a home. had to let go of people and conform. A struggle all on its own. I'm a girl from a destructed home; see my mother’s outer layer and it is made out of stone. So I ask questions like why my family only consists of two, including me I feel like the word family has faded too soon. Three years old lost my father to a disease, I mean why I should be mad he caused it and broke my mother in half. My dad was dying of AIDS from which he contracted from his mistress or shall I say other wife. And when my mother told me at twelve I understood why she hated lies. Why she hated her life or why she wish she was born in another time. See the struggle didn't begin when my dad died, because my mom was living a life full of emotional cries A life full of abuse a life exposed to everything we see in the news. So I began to understand why she fights just so she can. So she can feel wanted in some way through the exchange of punches coming towards her face. See my mother is a fighter and I see this strength embedded in me. My mother breathes, she grieves, cause now she's 40 and with HIV It has been like this for the past 17 years To think my mother could leave in any moment has a hold on me. To think that my home is wherever my mother and I are alone Makes me think what am I going to do when she is gone. From the invisible cracks in my home you learn that the cycle of abuse only continues. So my mother does the best she can, but I know through her ugly words or dry abuse, she loves me. Cause she created me To think my mother looks at me with regret that my father was the one who made her sick That my father wasn't able to stick around or what about me as a child. See my mom looks at me, she has a connection that is unexplainable And even if the evidence is not tangible, She knows that my pain is stable. People don't understand why I am so loud, why at times I can attract a crowd. It's because once I get home I'm silenced by my atmosphere I am silenced in my rooms sphere I am silenced by life dear People love to judge why she likes to laugh so much or why she can't shut up in class. I practically live alone, so when I talk it because this is the only time I can speak. The only time I could truly be me. People love to pinpoint why I am so sensitive, it's because I just feel things that other people don't I walk into a room and its like god has granted me with the power to feel I can feel people so much that it begins to make me sick. I show affection I give people hugs and kisses Yes because it makes me feel good it makes me feel wanted It makes me live, and I love to smile and I love to make people smile. But through my smile comes multiple surfaces. Like when I smile even when my heart has cried Or when I smile cause I gambled with life and lost the bet Or when I smile those days in the mirror where my makeup is smeared Where my deepest fears are exposed. Or when I smile just because I see the other person frown. I was physically abused, stripped of my clothes, stripped of my personality and yet I still find a path to become new I found a path where I was used, and I was fortunate enough to not lose, To not give in to people's repulsive stares to love my body even in a HD mirror, I was given the strength to rise above struggle Through a silenced home I was able to become loud!