|in the interest of full disclosure
Author: punctured.lungs PM
this is only me, searching for who i used to be and who i am today. /pillowbook three and a half/Rated: Fiction T - English - Hurt/Comfort - Chapters: 13 - Words: 3,122 - Reviews: 11 - Favs: 2 - Follows: 2 - Updated: 08-22-11 - Published: 07-31-11 - Status: Complete - id: 2938601
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
to make things clear, this collection is my own... exorcism, in a way. i'm going through my past, searching for what it is that made me who i am. so this probably isn't going to be my best poetry. it is, however, more personal than anything else i've posted. and i've posted some personal shit on here. so basically: read, if you want. but don't take this as an example of my work. and please don't leave hateful reviews. thanks.
i shudder every time i hear
glass break. when people ask me why
i tell them - i don't know.
but that's a lie. i do know the reason.
my earliest memory of my father
is from when i was four years old,
and it was december.
he came home from a party, drunk.
he came inside - slammed the door -
screamed at my mother - screamed at my
sisters, my brother, me - and he
picked up a christmas ornament (a
snowglobe, with rudolph inside) and hurled it
at the wall by my mother's head - it didn't
hit her, but it was close.
my mother herded us into the
back room and locked the door and
sat on the bed. i was crying, but she just
looked tired and numb.
ever since then, shattering glass
makes me jump, shake;
and hold back tears, the way
my mother did.