Harmful words that leave a mark
thrown carelessly across the room.
Without thought or remorse of the cut
they are dragged across naked skin.
The build up, the bracing, preparing for the hit
trying so hard to stand on your own.
The blatant or the subtle,
the attack rarely misses its mark.
Word games, shadow boxing, playing hide and seek
if only there were time to count to ten.
Sharpening tools and stretching out limbs
trying to find the endurance this will take.
Who we are and who we must overcome
is defined and lived within those walls.
The road that we take and the journey we choose
will almost be in spite of our past.
They were supposed to nourish and comfort us
to grow us up strong and proud.
More often than not they’ve left us struggling
weakened and standing alone.
Where is the haven that place called home
is it a fairy tale land in a dream?
Are there moments free of scrutiny
where who we are can simply be?
*it seems that no matter where we are in life,
we will always be challenged by the roles we play with our parents*