In the beginning I was oblivious. My first real memories are all beyond that point. The spinning in circles until you were nauseous. The fantasy toy worlds and pure imagination play times. The epic water gun fights running bare foot in the sun light. All those memories marred by the mistakes of mothers who need men too much. Enamored and jaded you took the beatings better than anyone. I saw you get thrown off a second story balcony and land on jagged rocks coming away so much worse for the wear. But you were still here, and so was he. For 10 years they battled like titans, and I watched. I remember the first time he hit me. He was on top of her punching her in the face. Blood was splashing onto the wall and all over my bed. I was screaming "I hate you" at the top of my lungs right next to him. He turned around and open hand punched me right in the mouth knocking me on my back. My lip was busted open and bleeding. Now I'm fucking angry. Ten years old with a mouth full of blood and pain. I got off my back and grabbed my baseball bat and swung for his head. First and last time he ever hit me. Wish I could say the same for her. But that's the moment it started. You can't hurt me. I stood up to a grown man as a child and knocked him out. I have a hidden fury that is my pain and power. For years I carried this flame in me and other could see it in me. Some where drawn to it and some feared it, I showed them clever, I showed them spirit.

One Of The Few

I'm sorry
when you deserve more than just sorry
the petty reasons why
are meaningless compared
to the depth of the sorrow
I clearly owe you more than this
but the explanation sounds
more like a cop out than it is
words can be actions too
to justify to reasons we speak
I learned my passive attitude
is weaker than the outcomes
and sweeter in the moment
until I learn to break the chains
I'll never truly own it