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My Fathers Scars pt2
His words twisted with hatred for what I'll never know, he would make you regret his whiskey as his hands turn to fists, a mother's love beaten till even the smile she mustered for me could no longer exist, I can't, I won't, you can bet I don't stay here any longer
I don't keep memories, I wear the scars of someone else, there was no story book ending to this, just distance in the tires and a shirt covering the wars with himself, I can't, I won't, you can bet I don't break again, momma won't even look at me now because I remind her of him
But I never told half of it, because I only wear half on my skin, though I'm terrified because I see that man staring back at me in front of the mirror, he even wore the same scars that he left on me, a mother's love took the worst of the hell we was in, I guess even a mother's love can fail in the end
I wished he would drink himself to death, I wished he would choke on that shit, I hoped, I prayed, I cried like bitch under that belt, clutched my fucking fists till the pain went away, I hoped to whatever god he would wake up dead, but I'm a man now with a son of my own, a child show me I can now, finaly leave those scars alone
Just Noticed
no periods, just commas. Interesting. A familiar story - I watched it as I grew up, only it wasn't called abuse then. I was youngest and often overlooked. Anger is the culprit and addictions.