draw a line down the center, you aim at the board, lined up like a soldier, like family is a war when all I knew were things little girls should not, how she was raped— the beast who fathered pushed you into the dark, the more I grip, draw a line down the center, the more the winter brings drunken nights, & who do you see here? on this countenance? how do you see the smile you have let die? when the power is cut, when the water will not run will you still cling to this old regret? you were not there first, but could have been there last— a man's violent pride is the beast we cannot tame
The above poem is from my collection, Daddy Issues, which is available for free for the rest of the month here.
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