hope

and that's what my father did
he gave me hope and he gave me everything
to take it all away
he'd stand right in front of me with his hand on my cheek
promising me things he would never bring
and he talked so sweetly it almost hurt
people like him looked good
they did it well
looks were more than just deceiving by this point
he did that to me
pleased the working mechanism of my brain
by telling me things that i wanted to hear
because to him after midnight
i was still a rag
used to clean the floors with
and a punching bag
for every time he had no reason to be angry
and i was running out of excuses
try to explain all of my bruises
so i stopped by telling everyone the truth
and no matter how much of a way out there was
the thing about people like my father is that
they were always forgiven and they got away with it
because people with a heart like mine
couldn't survive in this world
i got that from my mother
because one little note of fake desperation from him
and everything comes crumbling down
it keeps going
the circle never ends
it's always going to be like this
it's never going to end