its all understood
i come from a broken home
my father and mother divorced before i had a concious memory
my mom married a new man, who beat her
and when i could remember, he started beating me
and while this all happened my father continued in the drugs, and abuse that made my mother leave him
the first time my mom tried suicide she was placed in a mental institution
i was left with my father for a year when i was 5
it was my first exposure to true drug use
from smoke, to snort, to needles
glimpses burned in my mind
i went back to the abuse when my mother was released
and watched her try to protect me when the abuse continued
only to be beat to the floor infront of me
and my little brother was born, and she left him
she took me to my next father, which hit her harder
and when that didn't work hit me
and when i wouldn't cry from the beatings, and lashings
tried to fuck with my mind
told me i'd never grow up
told me i'd never be strong
told me i'd die before the day i could stand up to him
and much more, for 11 years
in between these times i spent summers with my father
who beat every woman i saw him with
because he coudn't take the aggression of my mother leaving him, and leaving him with me as a reminder
out on me
so he hit them harder every time
as i watched the shadows dance infront of me
i learned that being hit doesn't mean you did wrong
it can mean that some people never grow up
and take the weak as an outlet
my father was in prison, and out all through my life
and when i was 15, he tried to get me to find drugs for him
even though i had been dealing my mothers pain killers, from her accident at the hospital
i turned him down and he tried to hit me.
i picked up a table chair leg, and beat him unconcious
thats the first time i realized, everything was not right
i also learned violence solves nothing
i didn't speak to my father for the next three years
mostly due to the fact he had been incarcerated for grand theft and possesion of drugs
when i was 17 i was caught with half an ounce of blow
i was given the choice to go to prison, or join the marines when i turned 18
i chose the service ofcourse
and after a year i got myself out
between the time i was 15 and 17 my mom tried to commit suicide twice,
the first time i found her in the shower naked, with a bottle of oxycotin down her throat
i forced vommiting by thrusting my fingers down her throat
and took her to the hospital
the second time i wasn't around, which still haunts me because i should have been there
but again someone found her, and took her to the hospital
i learned alot from my parents
when i got out, i had an asshole mentality, and a grudge against all that i'd gone through
but thanks to my girl at the time i learned that it wasn't my fault
and that i could become a great person.
even though i lost her as a love, and as a friend through it
i thank her
after that i tried to find myself, as my father re entered my life
still adicted and trying to find a way out of his "bum" life
of camping in the woods, and surviving on the streets
i came home to my apartment one day finding him smoking crack
it was the first time i hit my father, and i kept hitting
i got out and moved back into my new stepfathers house, who's never laid a hand on me
and now for the past two years i've gotten myself a good job, gotten into college
and will continue that until i make something great of myself,
i met a girl who showed me what a good family, and moral raising can produce
even though we can't be together. i still have the greatest respect for her
showing me that you still have to push harder, and theres hope for me. thanks jess
now even though my time is short, and i might not have much of a tomorrow
i'm trying. i'll keep pushing
this is my abbrieviated story. i hope you remember.
no matter what happens, i'll keep pushing. i'll keep smiling.
and the day i die. i want everyone to laugh out loud for me.
in the middle of my funeral. a great cacophony of laughter
do this for me......please
my father and mother divorced before i had a concious memory
my mom married a new man, who beat her
and when i could remember, he started beating me
and while this all happened my father continued in the drugs, and abuse that made my mother leave him
the first time my mom tried suicide she was placed in a mental institution
i was left with my father for a year when i was 5
it was my first exposure to true drug use
from smoke, to snort, to needles
glimpses burned in my mind
i went back to the abuse when my mother was released
and watched her try to protect me when the abuse continued
only to be beat to the floor infront of me
and my little brother was born, and she left him
she took me to my next father, which hit her harder
and when that didn't work hit me
and when i wouldn't cry from the beatings, and lashings
tried to fuck with my mind
told me i'd never grow up
told me i'd never be strong
told me i'd die before the day i could stand up to him
and much more, for 11 years
in between these times i spent summers with my father
who beat every woman i saw him with
because he coudn't take the aggression of my mother leaving him, and leaving him with me as a reminder
out on me
so he hit them harder every time
as i watched the shadows dance infront of me
i learned that being hit doesn't mean you did wrong
it can mean that some people never grow up
and take the weak as an outlet
my father was in prison, and out all through my life
and when i was 15, he tried to get me to find drugs for him
even though i had been dealing my mothers pain killers, from her accident at the hospital
i turned him down and he tried to hit me.
i picked up a table chair leg, and beat him unconcious
thats the first time i realized, everything was not right
i also learned violence solves nothing
i didn't speak to my father for the next three years
mostly due to the fact he had been incarcerated for grand theft and possesion of drugs
when i was 17 i was caught with half an ounce of blow
i was given the choice to go to prison, or join the marines when i turned 18
i chose the service ofcourse
and after a year i got myself out
between the time i was 15 and 17 my mom tried to commit suicide twice,
the first time i found her in the shower naked, with a bottle of oxycotin down her throat
i forced vommiting by thrusting my fingers down her throat
and took her to the hospital
the second time i wasn't around, which still haunts me because i should have been there
but again someone found her, and took her to the hospital
i learned alot from my parents
when i got out, i had an asshole mentality, and a grudge against all that i'd gone through
but thanks to my girl at the time i learned that it wasn't my fault
and that i could become a great person.
even though i lost her as a love, and as a friend through it
i thank her
after that i tried to find myself, as my father re entered my life
still adicted and trying to find a way out of his "bum" life
of camping in the woods, and surviving on the streets
i came home to my apartment one day finding him smoking crack
it was the first time i hit my father, and i kept hitting
i got out and moved back into my new stepfathers house, who's never laid a hand on me
and now for the past two years i've gotten myself a good job, gotten into college
and will continue that until i make something great of myself,
i met a girl who showed me what a good family, and moral raising can produce
even though we can't be together. i still have the greatest respect for her
showing me that you still have to push harder, and theres hope for me. thanks jess
now even though my time is short, and i might not have much of a tomorrow
i'm trying. i'll keep pushing
this is my abbrieviated story. i hope you remember.
no matter what happens, i'll keep pushing. i'll keep smiling.
and the day i die. i want everyone to laugh out loud for me.
in the middle of my funeral. a great cacophony of laughter
do this for me......please