Some people should not be allowed to be parents. I can feel the pain in this.

“spent a few years
at the bottom
of a bottle
turns out
you can drown lota things
but demons fuckin float.”

Penned with brutal honesty, 253. I concur with Fia. The stanza above has a lot of fucking bite, I can definitely relate to living in a bottle most of my life. Thanks for sharing your story. Appreciate you.

Damian

This raw spill poem punches like a professional boxer. Each word is a bloodied and brawny fist, smashing its mark, square in the face. I absolutely concur with both, Fia, and Damian. Also, I do hope you see and realize the one and perhaps most important fact here: Your children do not fear you or cringe when you’re are near. You have effectively recreated the cycle of abuse. Thank you for sharing such a painful write.

Clay

I take it that you are sinking down into the mud. The more you pull yourself up the wetter the dirt gets making it feel impossible to get out of it. Interesting piece

Powerfully penned, 253. Another excellent write that makes me feel claustrophobic my friend. I too have written about quicksand or trying to escape the grave. Amazing read. Appreciate you.

Damian