Poor young girl
I dared to cry
Little did I know
my dad would
“Try to make me feel better”

He would pull his shirt over his face
So I wouldn’t see his expressions
The things that make him human
But I would see his stomach
And I would see him chasing me around the house

“No!”
I would shout
I didn’t want the hug
I didn’t want the hug
I didn’t want the hug
He was scary

But I was little
And not so fast
So he would grab me

I was trapped
In my mind
In the house
And in his arms clutched against his bare, hairy chest

And maybe I never truly left there
Trying hard to believe that he was truly trying to help me
Trying to be okay
Trying to stop what he was doing from hurting me constantly
Trying
Trying
Trying

I have since recovered slightly
With meds, poetry, and therapy
but I still feel the squeeze of his hands sometimes
I still his chest hair against my neck
I still feel the fear of a switch
The fear that someone will get angry

I’m still a little trapped
And a little afraid to cry

Drink some water
Eat something
Write a poem
Take a walk
Just sit there and exist for a moment

It’s okay
Nothing really matters anyway

I am your
shadow
I will always
misbehave.

You are
exactly
where
you deserve
to be

She is a dog.                   She is my sister
Your half sister.             We share our trauma
She bites.                        She was neglected
She barks.                       It’s not her fault
She’s dangerous.           Her owner is dangerous
I hate her.                        I love her
She pees on my bed.     My dad locks her in my old room
We are so different.        We are so similar
So far apart.                     So very connected

When they cry
I provide comfort

When they scream
I tell them they have the right

But they don’t notice it in me
For my tears flood my heart
And my screams are silent

I have some hard battles
I just keep them inside and quiet