Mother grabs me, leaving bruises

Mother grabs me, leaving bruises on my skin.

My veins release blood deep from within.

Like times before, I know that she'll win.

My dear mother has grown sick with sin.


The tears are pulled from the edges of my eyes.

Mother's anger is her pain's only disguise. 

I fear for mine and my sister's lives.

Mother throws things as she screams and as she cries.


I know it's the alcohol turning Mother this way.

I have to watch her down some vodka each and every day.

I pour it down the sink because I'm no longer afraid.

I can already feel a release of this miserable pain.


I stand up to Mother and I show her no fear.

She was never a Mother at all, just someone near.

Now everything in my life has become clear. 

I walk away from this battle, not shedding one tear.

This poem is about: 
My family


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