- Books, Literature, and Writing
I wish I could tell you the truth.
The truth that you never loved me.
When I was eight .You made me realize that crying was a sign of weakness.
So even if I felt like crying I could not
Cause you mocked me and called me ''GIRL''.
The truth that I was scared I might turn into you .
The truth that I hated you ,when you came home drunk.
And broke glasses,
Screamed at my mother!
That night I was scared too.
But I was too afraid to cry.
Too afraid to be mocked again!
I closed my room like always so that I could not hear you screaming.
The voice became louder ,I heard the sound of broken glasses and a scream.
I ran towards the room,
Saw my mother lying on the floor,
Blood streaming all over her face.
I saw a piece of broken glass on the floor .
I saw him standing right there with a broken piece in his hand.
I looked at him,the agony of 22 years has not died over the years.
I refused to look into eyes of a murderer.
The truth that he killed my mother .
I picked the broken glass,
Heard him scream in pain.
I killed him. That night when I saw myself in the mirror.
I could not recognize myself.
I am afraid of the truth.
The truth that I have turned into him.