At any moment, their tempers could blow,
so you had to toe the line hard--
you could never relax; you had to stay perfectly
rigid and on guard.
They laughed at your meltdowns and sneered at your joys.
What attention they gave you was cruel.
When you dared express needs, they exiled you
to your room, all alone, or to school—
where your bright intelligence withered and writhed
unmet. It was all a nightmare—
except it was real. No one else saw
the pain that you bore—and still bear.
You somehow survived, alone and deprived.
You live with the scars—and yet
you find ways to grow toward the light, like an oak
whose old wounds give creatures a nest.
