PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

So you want to know me, like an open file? Fine. My mom used to choke up for me something that looked like a broken smile and seeing it hurt, but not as bad as the fist my dad rolled up in that t-shirt. That piece of shit, when the drinking starts if you speak up or talk back, get picked apart, hit as I'm just staring back.
Like copy and paste he used to swear he was straight up sorry, what a waste bottle in hand it was the same story. Fast forward to twenty one, bleeding over my bill money and pressing on. I had as many scars as I had issues, she guessed wrong. Take all this shit with you, I guess she's gone, but it's for the best, and your memory is just a temporary guest.
I used to wear bruises and cuts for weeks straight, that shit was painful, but I did it so we could have fucking food on the dinner table. The hell that angel put me through, walking away it must of felt like April fools to you, but just like my dad I can walk away from shit I shouldn't be able too.
Fast forward and I'm twenty four without a single care, cause I know that no body but me got me here. Any emotion and I kill it, cold as fuck, bring up the past and I'd leave you in it.
Fast forward some more and I'm fighting bigger wars without a single doubt, I'm shutting my demons down, chasing dreams I could only dream about. Secrets and scars, my sights a bit blinded but the fire in my eyes has been ignited and deep inside I know I regret some of the things I did but in the end I know my path was done decided and I'm going to war tomorrow, this motivation and drive is like a weapon, and I'll kill over before I'm second again.