I Remember
I never faced death, but I remember:
The way my father looked when he came home;
the many times my mother cried alone.
And the anger that haunted him at night;
a drunken soldier looking for a fight.
I remember a man consumed by rage;
the beatings I suffered at a young age.
I never fought wars, but I remember:
The nightmares, the drunken slurs, and the screams;
atrocities revisited in dreams.
The sad plight of a man hitting his boy,
letting his temper strip my life of joy.
I remember every battle he fought,
played out amidst the pain each beating brought.
I never felt loved, but I remember:
Feelings garnered from the lives of others,
where dads loved their children and their mothers.
Labeled a burden, all of my dreams died,
branded useless, no matter how I tried.
I remember cursing my day of birth,
conceived in love yet deemed of little worth.
I try to forget, but I remember.
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