literature

Blurring the Lines

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Literature Text

The lines continue to blur,
and I wonder when
or if
clarity will ever come.

The pain of my memories weighs me down,
and the hatred once in your eyes haunts me.
The weakness,
and the lack of control.

Shall I always be the one being hurt?
The one with no way of retaliation,
no hope of defense.

My tears mean nothing.
My strength even less.

Always you take
and you take
and I am helpless.

Helpless to your strength and your power.
To your rage and your hatred of me.
You haunt me in my dreams,
strike me in my day to day moments.

You lie silently waiting for an opening,
slipping in the reminder of pain you caused.

You live on as if nothing was destroyed,
as if all turned out fine.
As if I don't struggle.
As if my dreams are not filled with screams,
night terrors of violence and looming men,
hate on faces and fists on my skin.

You say hello as if you have not made loving
and being loved so much more difficult.

As though he does not get hurt when I burst into tears,
while he sits wondering why I am crying once more.
How much is he reassured when I tell him again
that it is not him,
but memories of YOU that has caused these tears to appear.

Does it cause him less pain,
to know that he was not the cause of the tears?
Or does he like others see only the pain,
and wish to comfort me,
and feel helpless at his inability?

Tell me father when will these lines unblur?
Ali
The abuse from my past continues to bleed into my present. A simple action from Alex, a mistake he unknowingly makes triggers memories of a time when my father was less than kind. He feels so helpless, and I feel so awful to put this burden on him. And there is anger that I am like this due to my father, who got off fine. Who doesn't want me around, and doesn't care to get to know me. Such is life.
© 2012 - 2024 poet4jesus16
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