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My minds like a meat grinder tearin' reality all to hell.
My Heart's a vacuum for things that don't make me feel very well.
Momma never cried for me when daddy didn't care,
There wasn't a page in my reality that he didn't tear.
Bruises always thickend on the weekend days,
as that bastard went deeper into his alcoholic haze.
Momma says she can't leave him... some one's gotta pay the bills.
Even though I know his every touch fills her Heart with Chills...
I try to be a good son and show him Love and respect.
But to him I am nothing more than a costly object.
Sleep seldom comes as they fight all through the night,
I always pray for help while I clutch my pillow tight.
I beg for Dawn to come and break His Evil Spell,
but with the same energy I curse the setting Sun all to Hell...
He's already dead I wish he'd just lay down,
or hopefully one day he'll take a swig and drown.
I've ran away at least a thousand times in my mind,
but I always come back cause I can't leave mom behind.
Behind with all the torture, behind with all the pain,
behind with all the heart aches that also shred her brain.

(A poem by perspective not a personal experience,If is your experience I pray you find help)
Stanley Victor Paskavich

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