BrokenHome

Learn more about other poetry terms

A father-- who beat his kid sensless A son-- who raped his little sister A mother-- who's on too many drugs to see this A little girl-- Who wants nothing but a real family in this world.
Once upon a time, I was a news reporter sharing my story with everyone. Once upon a time, everyone stopped and listened to what I had to say. Once upon a time, my life was full of light and glowing things that fascinated me.
Mother   Was Born By A 15 Year Old Mother, Who Grew Very Distant From My Father, My Mother Tried To Do Everything On Her Own,
This Goes Out To All The Children That Grew Up Without A Father Figure In There Life…   See I Remember When My Father Said He Would Be Right Back Home,
I am made of sticks and stones. I rebuilt myself from those I found Strewn about the kitchen floor, Remnants of your drunken tirades. My bones felt hollow When I learned that yours
It’s just another number, another family, another man. Get over it they say, they just don’t understand. That inside I feel unloved and denied. 
The glass lost its grip And my veins lost their insistent murmur. My heart no longer pounding   I spoke my words into the air My throat strangling, mangling Sounds I would never release  
They're finding their way closer.   Within this thick underbrush,   I cannot find comfort.   Delirium driving me insane,   I am the only to blame.   All I can do is wander,
Subscribe to BrokenHome