My Plan in Life is to Become Divorced

by Linda Oh, Virgo - Not entered

My parents gave me the ambition.
It's one of the many things that scare me,
Yet makes me feel as powerful as their
Voices, blended together forming tears.

I told a couple of my friends
And they said it was okay to cry
But now i feel all open and dry
And so empty and cold and barren inside.

They asked if I was all right.
Stared in my eyes.
Unable to think of what else to say
I was never right in the first place.

(I stop with The American Dream
 I never owned a ring I didn't lose anyways.
 I know nothing of substance and bind
 and if, I'll run away just in time.)

I always liked life 
Before age seven.
But then rejection and shoves and slaps and punches and fists and mouths and pain...
All i can think of is never, never.

Have you ever seen your father slam your mother's head against a heavy wooden door
  over and over again?
I have.
The lock and handle grinding into her skull.
Blood and a black eye the morning after.

I was eleven.
What the hell is love in the first place?
I had no friends, instead I cheated and got in trouble at school.
I thought i had lost everyting, so who cares?

The following evenings were much the same.
I tried so hard to make them stop.
But I owned no power.
I was only eleven.

I came to a draw
And vowed the only way I could survive was by never letting that happen to me.
So I sit quietly, numb.
Watch everything I am turn to shit.

I fall helplessly, willingly.
My inherent and obsessive sadness,
a few books, the endings of a chain letter, and a trifle of acquaintances
Is all I have now.

It's funny how things tend to work out.
I stand with empty hands and searching eyes
Wearing only my past on my back, strapped, unwilling ever to let go
With a thumb stuck out toward nothing.

Reason for writing:

    I wrote this poem only a little while ago when I told two of my best friends about the domestic violence I had witnessed when I was younger. I'm currently fifteen and my family is still together, but we're thankfully growing old. I wrote this poem for my own catharsis, but hopefully, dueling parents out there might think twice about shoving such a terrible thing in their children's faces. Obviously, it doesn't help much, myself being a great example.    

Birth sign: Not entered
Date created: 1997-07-12 18:36:48
Last updated: 2021-03-03 14:39:38
Poem ID: 47597

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