Categories > Original > Poetry > Mom
Mom
By VahnDeathHeart
Do you know what it's like to be truly afraid?
Have you ever been a parent before you even had a child?
Did you ever wonder when the next bill would be paid?
Did you watch as they piled?
Did all of this happen before you got to first grade?
This has happened to many children,
But this is about a boy.
This is about when he watched his mother take many different men into her room.
This is about how he had to raise and protect his sister from the noise.
Just so she didn't have a clue.
This is about how he didn't go home countless nights just so he did not have to fight.
This is about him being brutally attacked by a drunk just for covering his sister.
This boy... no... yes... I don't know...
To many this child was a boy.
He had a temper,
He got in many fights,
He cut and burned himself,
He went for suicide... not once,
But twice.
To many he was a man.
He had wisdom that one did not gain until they aged,
He gained respect from those he had just met... no he earned respect,
He held an adult conversation with ease,..
He took care of those that were his blood,
He took care of those few friends who had been through the same things he has or more and just couldn't handle it,
He became a rock for those people,
He let them use him,
Because he was the only one they thought they could trust.
To many they didn't know what to clarify him as.
They didn't give him the chance.
They were afraid,
Because they couldn't understand.
They saw the change in his personalities.
They could see the look in his eyes.
The look of cold intelligence.
They could see the scars on his skin,
Even the faded ones and the ones to his heart,
They really could not understand.
And they hated it.
They took there anger out on him,
A stab to the face,
A kick to the gut,
An attack on his friends,
So much so he did not have anymore.
This child has seen many people die,
He even caused one, and even though he was protecting himself,
He regretted it.
Sometimes he wished I had let the men kill me.
Years later he's glad I didn't though.
If I did he would not have met the people he did.
I would not have met those three very special ladies that I hold close to my heart.
Even though they are not blood,
They are my sisters and my best friends.
They taught me what it was to love again.
They taught me what it was to be alive again.
They saw through my hate, my fear, and my sadness.
They brought me happiness and didn't ask for anything in return.
They brought me a new fear and I didn't even realize it.
I would do anything for them.
Those three are the only ones of a small group who have seen me smile.
The rest are either dead or have forgotten me.
Though, if I had not met the Third, I would be dead.
The very same day I met her, I was planning.
It was She who reminded me,
Through the sadness in her eyes,
Through the knowledge of her having something in common with me.
I was reminded of why I like helping people.
The Second don't know why I chose her.
Maybe it was because of my dire need to have help.
Maybe I knew deep in my mind... never mind.
All I know is that because of her a piece of the emptiness was filled.
She helped guard my mind,
And if I need help I know I can turn to her.
The First is the easiest,
When you walk into a room and everyone is afraid but her.
You just can't help but talk to that person.
She worries me constantly through her actions,
She is the one, who got me out of being alone,
She is the one who got me to say the words "I love you" again.
Through all of this
There is but one to blame.
The person is the one who this child used to call
"Mom"
By VahnDeathHeart
Do you know what it's like to be truly afraid?
Have you ever been a parent before you even had a child?
Did you ever wonder when the next bill would be paid?
Did you watch as they piled?
Did all of this happen before you got to first grade?
This has happened to many children,
But this is about a boy.
This is about when he watched his mother take many different men into her room.
This is about how he had to raise and protect his sister from the noise.
Just so she didn't have a clue.
This is about how he didn't go home countless nights just so he did not have to fight.
This is about him being brutally attacked by a drunk just for covering his sister.
This boy... no... yes... I don't know...
To many this child was a boy.
He had a temper,
He got in many fights,
He cut and burned himself,
He went for suicide... not once,
But twice.
To many he was a man.
He had wisdom that one did not gain until they aged,
He gained respect from those he had just met... no he earned respect,
He held an adult conversation with ease,..
He took care of those that were his blood,
He took care of those few friends who had been through the same things he has or more and just couldn't handle it,
He became a rock for those people,
He let them use him,
Because he was the only one they thought they could trust.
To many they didn't know what to clarify him as.
They didn't give him the chance.
They were afraid,
Because they couldn't understand.
They saw the change in his personalities.
They could see the look in his eyes.
The look of cold intelligence.
They could see the scars on his skin,
Even the faded ones and the ones to his heart,
They really could not understand.
And they hated it.
They took there anger out on him,
A stab to the face,
A kick to the gut,
An attack on his friends,
So much so he did not have anymore.
This child has seen many people die,
He even caused one, and even though he was protecting himself,
He regretted it.
Sometimes he wished I had let the men kill me.
Years later he's glad I didn't though.
If I did he would not have met the people he did.
I would not have met those three very special ladies that I hold close to my heart.
Even though they are not blood,
They are my sisters and my best friends.
They taught me what it was to love again.
They taught me what it was to be alive again.
They saw through my hate, my fear, and my sadness.
They brought me happiness and didn't ask for anything in return.
They brought me a new fear and I didn't even realize it.
I would do anything for them.
Those three are the only ones of a small group who have seen me smile.
The rest are either dead or have forgotten me.
Though, if I had not met the Third, I would be dead.
The very same day I met her, I was planning.
It was She who reminded me,
Through the sadness in her eyes,
Through the knowledge of her having something in common with me.
I was reminded of why I like helping people.
The Second don't know why I chose her.
Maybe it was because of my dire need to have help.
Maybe I knew deep in my mind... never mind.
All I know is that because of her a piece of the emptiness was filled.
She helped guard my mind,
And if I need help I know I can turn to her.
The First is the easiest,
When you walk into a room and everyone is afraid but her.
You just can't help but talk to that person.
She worries me constantly through her actions,
She is the one, who got me out of being alone,
She is the one who got me to say the words "I love you" again.
Through all of this
There is but one to blame.
The person is the one who this child used to call
"Mom"
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