literature

Diary of a fed up child

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phoeKnix's avatar
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Literature Text

     I am home, it is two o'clock in the morning, and my mom is out partying with a bunch of friends she knew from school awhile back. I'm not sure exactly what school she graduated, or if she even did. If I asked I'm sure she'd hit me, She has all this time on her hands now because she quit her job, and she can't even use it to dicipline her own fucking child the right way. She just uses me, an accuse to get out of jail, then all she can do to show her gratitude is use me more, I even testifyed for her, begged them not to send her to prison, and since that time we've only exchanged maybe two words.

I'm tired of it all.

     The lies. Once she said she'd go out to the store to buy some smokes, she left for five hours and I really thought she was never coming back. She came back.

     I guess she realized that if she left she wouldn't have a roof over head and she was scared she'd have to go back to prostitution. The same way I was conceived, ah she disgusts me to my very core.

Im fed up with the abuse.

     I know she'd never really harm me, but she lets so many men into this household that pick on me, they're just there to sleep with my mom and get the hell out.

I love her, sort of, I mean shes my mom. I have to.

I just wish sometimes she'd love me back.



A piece of writing i've been thinking about writing for quite awhile, I just thought you might like to check it out maybe
© 2009 - 2024 phoeKnix
Comments5
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Zapp506's avatar
This makes me sad. :,( especially the last line.