People come up to me to tell my how good of a man my father is.
My father can never be a good man
Because of the way he smiles
The way he talks and shouts and screams
And sometimes uses his fists instead words to do so
My father is not a good man
It’s laughable really as my father isn’t even good at being a man
Isn’t good at anything but making people want to tear themselves apart and pretending
My father is so good at pretending
When people come up to me to tell me how good of a man my father is it makes me think of how easily the were fooled just like I was fooled for the first five years of my life before I woke up and saw the damage he wrought.
How easily my mother was fooled for her to have married him.
My mother who sang me to sleep and prayed over my bed
Who read to me and gave me my love of words
Who married a man that made her hate herself
My father who made all of his many emotions my mother’s responsibility
My mother who decided that she would never deal, could never deal with anyone’s emotions to cope
My mother who told me that for the day she could no longer be my mother
My mother who learnt to hate her daughter because my father used her baby to hurt her
Who cares so much but no longer knows what to do with that care because she has not been cared for in twenty four years
To brush my teeth and tie my shoe laces
My sister who grew up with parents who saw her as extensions of themselves and an object to move
My sister who did not know what she was feeling and took it out on me
My sister who struggles to this day
My sister who I love more than life itself
My sister who puts me first every time who always make sure I know I am loved who has never told me that she is no longer my sister for the day
My sister who has stayed up late to talk to me and cooks for me when I am hungry
My sister who hasn’t always known her potential
My sister who I have always idolised
My sister who dreams bigger than stars
My sister who I have always known would fulfil her dreams and more
My sister who I used to wrestle with
My sister who I have shared a room with for the majority of my life my brother who I shared with for the other part
My sister the most caring person I know who cannot help but see a person who needs to be loved and care for them because she knows how it feels to be stuck in a place where no one cares
My brother who smiles brighter than the sun itself
My brother who woke me up and the crack of dawn to play video games
My brother who taught me the magic of a paper aeroplane
Who prefers the comfort of his room to the chaos of our house
Who people think is an introvert but couldn’t be any more extroverted
My brother who prefers to be himself only around people who bring him peace because growing up he rarely saw it
My brother who has always had so much anger within him and hated that he feels it
My brother who has always had so much love
My brother who has always let me know I was loved
First by telling me the words as children then in his own way as we got older but I knew nonetheless
My brother who is witty and kind
My brother who was the first to realise that I have unsaid paragraphs in my head
My brother who always lets me sit in his space
My brother who understands that i for all the time I spend speaking sometimes I just want to share space
My brother who lets me watch him play his video games and laugh at him losing
My brother whose face was heartbroken when I told him I knew what he was going through
My brother who is as quick as they come
My brother who is fiercely protective of my sister despite being younger because he cannot stand the idea of her being hurt again
My sister who cried on her first results day because she would be stuck in this house for another year
My sister who cries in the night in anticipation for her second results day because it means she will be leaving us in this house
My brother who looks at me with sadness in his eyes as he talks of his results day knowing he will leave me in this house
Who will cry on both of their results days because it will mean that they will finally be leaving this house and get to grow into the people they have always wanted to be but have never been allowed to become
Who can never be a good man
Which means the things he does he chooses to do with a clear mind and a black heart
I cannont explain and excuse his actions to myself or others as he chooses to do them sober and knows the damage that he creates
My father who I wished had left under the guise of buying milk
My mother who if my father hadn’t married would’ve grown into a wonderful woman
My sister who if my father hadn’t spoken to wouldn’t question her worth
My brother who if my father hadn’t hit wouldn’t feel the need to shut himself inside his head
And the when people come up to me saying my father is a good man I think about all of this and how in a few years time to them it must be a coincidence that
Has been left all alone by
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