Rough Around The Edges...

I remember being a child... Pure and inocent. I remember trying to be happy and peaceful.... And I remember my father. I was sure he hated himself, he took it out us (mom, sisters and me). We managed to leave when I was 8, but he was always there.... Torturing me, not with fists like before, with his words. I was worthless to him, I understood so I pretended I didn't care. I grew distant, unloved and bitter; only fell in love once and ran from it like a coward. I would hide from it seeking other men, but I'm still in love with the only man who ever saw the real me. Am I a coward for loving him and hating all others?.... Maybe. But I don't care, if drugs, alcohol and cheap men couldn't kill me... Love sure can't.
torturedchild torturedchild
18-21, F
Jan 21, 2013