My name is Luka.
I lived on the second floor.
I see you've gotten older.
My marks are fading fast.
You never came to help me.
I've always wondered why.
Could you not hear my screaming?
My tears fell through the floor; your ceiling.
I said I walked into the door when you asked about it.
What kind of door can tear up human flesh?
Don't tell me you thought I was serious.
I could see it in your eyes that you were furious.

My name is Luka.
I never was okay.
I had parents that destroyed me,
and you sat on the first floor reading the paper.
Couldn't feel the floor shake.
Could you hear the glass break?
I guess it doesn't matter anyways.
I'm still alive today.

I have two children now.
Sometimes I want to beat them.
I never got help for what happened to me.
Sometimes I want to smash them.
I secretly hate my son.
I absolutley love my daughter.
But I'd still do anything for them.
Aren't I such a good father?

I could go through life like this -
A mess.
I can take all the pains in my chest.
Just think -
You could have called the cops,
and I would be so much better.
I could feel so much better.

If you only.
Only.
Know me.
Am I here?
I am here
Here I am.
Standing - waiting for a change.
I can't move my legs, and there's damage to my brain.

Thank you.
For everything.
Everything I'm not.

Normal.

-END

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Author's Note: This poem was inspired by a Suzanne Vega song entitled "Luka". A song about child abuse. I wrote this as the aftermath - it's a totally different style than my usual work. Not that much rhyming, not amazing flow, but I tried to deliver a message. Stop child abuse.