I was 14 when my father died,
and I felt like I died with him.
My mother went insane after that,
making a reputation for us,
spreading it all around town what she does,
is what people did.
She plays around,
but what you hear is;
she sleeps around.
I used to defend her
now I can only ignore the comments,
people saying, "there's her,
that's the daughter of the slut.
Will she turn out the same?
I hear she's different."
You bet your ass I'm different.
I'm not going to become that.
I'm not going to keep that from letting me live my dream,
when I get out of here.
Leave here.
I hate it here.
Not because of the town,
not because of the people,
but because of our reputation,
because of the secret that was supposed to stay secret.
I want to go somewhere,
somewhere where no one knows my name.
Or better yet, knows my mother.
Somedays I want to become invisible,
somedays I want to live like a normal 17 year old.
Someday....
Someday...
Someday...
Someday will be one day.
YOU ARE READING
My Monster
PoetryHer name was Skylar. And she was addicted. Her substance: Meth/Crank/Glass... whatever you call it, it still screws you up in more ways than one. But after seventeen years of trying to be Ms.Perfect in an unstable family, is this really what she wan...
