Father beat me so hard,
   I never got really good.
I learned to scream before I learned to talk.
I've never been good at crying,
   so I used to just scream.
I don’t remember much,
but Mom told me, years later.
And of cuz, I knew. Look at my arms, look at my face.
I remember my father every time I look in the mirror
   and something screams inside of me.
Sometimes I wonder
   why he couldn't just let me be.