My dad was a drunk and my mom was a drug attick so writting poetry helps me cope with it.Chapter 1: It's just life
It’s Just Life
When I thought life was perfect, and carefree.
And my parents got a divorce not thinking twice about how the kids would be affected.
Or how we look around too see everyone’s “perfect home.”
A mom, dad, brother, sister,
knowing something’s different but not knowing what.
My brother and I showed up to daycare with bruises
Everyone wondered where they came from
“I fell down the stairs.”
“I ran into the wall.”
But no matter what I could hear them talk behind their perfect homes and loving families.
It was humiliating
“Perfect homes?” I thought
Trying to figure out how to add and subtract.
Still going home at night wondering if we have food.
Or am I gonna find my mom dead on the ground.
Foster care is where we went.
Just so the little family I had left could be ripped away.
And realized my house wasn’t a home
In what home does your mom try to kill you?
In what home does a five year old have to worry if there gonna eat at night?
In what home does a child walk in and see her mom shooting up drugs?
In what home do random guys go in and out of the house?
At five I had all these questions and no answers.
I was shy asking why God felt the need to put me through all these struggles and tests I didn’t know how to deal with.
Still shy still wondering
But living with my dad
Finally getting to celebrate christmas, my birthday, and Easter if I wanted.
And it’s a big deal now
Haven’t seen my mom or brothers in years
Had my first crush
Finally feeling normal
Just to have a random women move in
With five kids
Didn’t mind AT FIRST
Manipulating a word to describe her
Still no mom
Still no brothers
And a dad that’s drifting
A baby on the way and still he drifts
My dad and I are on
two different universes
Everything changes from here on out
Our friendship got lost and he became a roommate til I turn eighteen
My dad is and always has been a drunk
Babies here a little brother I love
I realize I am raising my new little brother
He called me mom
No I say as I am still a child myself
A breakup is what happened
This woman and her children moved out
Kind of happy
Okay really happy
Need my mom more than ever now and still she is
Nowhere to be found
Crying to sleep at night
As I cry all I hear are guns, police, firemen, gangs
Still feeling as if I am raising my brother, still feeling as all of this is my fault as I fall into a depression.
Everyone saw it as much as I tried to hide it, family wanted to help but didn’t know how.
Always wanted to be alone, wanted to figure my life out by myself but everywhere I turned there was someone asking me if I am okay.
Physically, Emotionally, Mentally?
Yes I replied.
Trying to figure out who I am as a person .
I lost myself when I decided partying was more important than school.
I couldn’t stop sneaking out and partying had such a big influence on my life.
It was like an addiction I couldn’t help
Deciding to move to be happier
Still watching my brother as if he is my own
Dad and I don’t talk that much anymore
A good time in my life
Until change is what I was running from
Maybe I didn’t want to move after all
Everyone is changing around me, and trying to fit in
We can’t go out to eat every night, we can’t buy everything we want, we don’t live in a big house and will never. I never really adjusted to moving here because I am different, I can tell and I know when people look at me they can tell to. Ghetto by some country by others. Fake by some brutally honest by others. I will never be perfect for this world and I understand. I understand my life’s different to everyone else looking in. Yeah my dads a drunk and yeah my mom is a drug attic and yeah my families not close but I learned to deal with the family I was dealt with. I see how my parents are and I am determined to grow up and not do drugs, not be a drunk and to just make the future for me the best I can.