When I read my old poetry

it's like I've stepped into a time machine.

Memories that used to haunt me,

feelings that tied me to the past.

I see scenes of hysteria, longing,

and abandonement.

My childhood was not as pleasant as it

had seemed.

Fights rocked my world,

I could see my mother and father

play games.

Her passive aggression,

his aggressivion.

I see all the kids I beat up,

the broken noses

and shattered egos.

I see the tears and the bruises.

The men that scared me,

the women I hated.

I see brothers fighting fathers,

sisters slapping sisters.

GET OUT

I want to scream.

My past is filled with death and betrayal.

One after another.

I am a flat line.

Dead.

Gone.