Charlie

Childhood memories?

We all have them.

Some                           suck.

Some make me smile.

Some make me cringe.

Some make me                         cut,

or at least                                                                                                        give me the urge to.

                        It’s hard when                                                  I think about my

little brothers -                        when  I think about all I left behind.               I can only

pray

that they’ll understand someday.                                             Maybe they’ll remember that I

took care of them,

that I was their mommy,

that I fed them, clothed them,

put them to bed.

I got them up for school,

helped them with their homework,

held them when they were sick.

I kissed away the nightmares

and sang them into a deep state of unconsciousness.

I’m the one who did

that for them.

Yes, it was me!

Not their too wasted parents

that decided they needed a

night on the town – every

single night. Not the

grandparents who

overlooked the abuse that

went on at the house and

justified their actions by

buying our love. No,

it was me.

I hope they remember.

They will,                         I’m sure of it.

I guess I feel

most guilty

about leaving them

in that prison,

that deep, dark dungeon of secrets.

 Quick, get me blade.                                                                           Shit, that was way too deep.