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My Old Bedroom Window

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Hidden away in shame
the translucent window lies.
Weathered and worn,
by the calloused and clumsy hands.

And I seethe
at the sight of the jagged edge,
that threatened a childhood.
Malformed the memories.

The frosted glass;
Fogged over with the come of morning
That blocked out the light
Warped the sense of a safe reality.

The splintered frame,
Too risky to touch.
because of the poisoned nostalgia
And the frightened recollections of myself.

And you, my father,
Who disturbed the glass,
Glazed it with your lucid breath,
Breaking it,
Breaking me,

Igniting terror in the night
With the locks that remain useless,
My mother, Myself
The gun to her head was also to mine.

Trapped for a decade,
where all I could do was peer out and watch
with burning Green Eyes,
The freedom in the other faces
Of those who did not fear their fathers.

Soon after…
the Fear of the father
Turned into Fear for the father.
Upon his habit of liquid courage
And his resolve to drive,




It was then that I twisted
My throbbing head
To his sad, swollen eyes
And forgave him
For all he apologized for.
And no longer feared him,
Because he was my Daddy again





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