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fear is tangible it permeates the skin it pricks the soul my heart has been bleeding since i was a baby i have memories that shouldn't make sense to remember my father screaming while i am stranded in some orange plastic play thing not even old enough to walk yet when a beer bottle is thrown at my mother i am invisible in the corner over the years i watch my mother cry while i hold things in then i watch her go numb her eyes floating in the distance when spoken to my weekend visits with my dad were random and didn't last long he smelled like cheap whiskey and he lied i knew it then as a child and still today i know when someone is lying i thought i could beat my past this history of abuse the father of my child lies with the same ease but he wears khakis and doesn't have needle marks on his arms so he will probably get away with it and like me my daughter won't realize the truth until she is in her twenties and she will blame me like i blamed my mother in the meantime the spirits of dead women and children haunt my home they keep me up at night telling me their stories because they don't want things to end like it did for them it is a lie that there is this light for the victim's of abuse when they die i see the dead and they are still suffering trying to save those like them they are here with me while i suffer watching my daughter in a stranger's home while her father casts his lying shadow over the lives of all those he has encountered
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AuthorMichelle Tinklepaugh Archives
June 2023
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