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Poem

They say that women were meant to endure
And so i endured a thousand slicing words from my father
Words, that prickled like needles being tugged into wooden boards
Words that ruptured much more than my soul

I still remember that fateful Sunday two years ago
Papa, when you barged into my room
That day what did I not endure?
A wooden stick, several punches, a slap or maybe two
You think the harm was only physical
But papa, you broke much more than my bones

You broke the trust I always suspected mother never had in you
You broke the unwavering grin with which a little girl looked at you
You sliced in two the heart that you were meant to soothe

They say that two years is a long time
But I'm stuck, immovable and paralyzed on my room's floor tonight
while you're away making your millions
I'm stuck with the memories that still rot the insides of my mind

Were you stressed? 
Was it the employees at work?
I've tried making a thousand reasons 
But none answer the question : why me?

And so while I lay awake through sleepless nights
Trying to make sense of it all by bleeding my tears into poetic rhymes
I wonder yet again
Papa, did you torture our relationship to the edge of death that it may never be the same?
I never intended to hate you but look at this spiraling mess we've made.

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