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Devil-Oris
It’s easy for you to tell me about me
You can take a magnifying glass and see problems I don’t see
Within a breath you can summarize my life
You can tell me when I went left and I should have went right
Can you tell me about the times I couldn’t sleep at night?
Can you tell me about when I was being carried down the stairs that night?
Surely you can tell me how I woke up to my father hitting my mother in the head in the shower?
Do you know the date, time or hour?
I’m positive that you remember when my father attempted to ruin my 20th birthday so he wouldn’t have to give me a gift?
Or when he was by my house with his new girlfriend when my sister was in and out of consciousness
Surely you can explain why he took us to Daytona and only fed us peanut butter and jelly sandwiches or beefaroni for a month
While we watched his girlfriend eat Wendy’s every day after work.
Or how he allowed another girlfriend to bully me over my belongings and my mother was my saving grace
If I was so cautious I would think that you weren’t aware of your actions
But you took the umbilical cord off my sister as an infant
You won’t even let your first great-grandchild be in your residence
You refuse to realize that you failed as a mother
You watered a seed in the concrete of a home lacking motherly love
You are so evil and twisted you never taught him how to love a woman
Let alone be an upright man and a husband
You taught him to be afraid of responsibility from the beginning
You taught him to hide like a coward when it doesn’t fit his interests
You took one of God’s creations and ripped the spine from the man
He follows you because without his devilish crutch he cannot stand
You walk around with your head above everyone else
Like no one deserves your presence as if it was a blessing
I pray that in death you will see your funeral
I pray you see the people who are happy that you are no more
I pray every evil thing that you’ve done haunts you on your death bed
I pray they take the form of the people you’ve hurt
You are NOT my grandmother.
You ma’am are lower than dirt.
Copyright ©
Issabella Mccarty
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