Eight
When I was eight
Things were not so great
Life gave me such a kick
I grew up pretty quick
A child expecting a present
Instead was delivered unpleasant
My parents started fighting
Just the beginning of writing
That was clearly on the wall
Witnessing the nightly brawl
My father was an unhappy man
My mother trying the best she can
The combination explosive
Their relationship corrosive
Living life under cumulus clouds
Feeling like the dead covered in shrouds
I learned to fake
Even though my heart would ache
Every ounce of pain
They delivered without refrain
Hurting each other mercilessly
Only to be regretted remorsefully
Suffering the pain as a mortal
Damage to the psyche immortal
Communication with each other
Was really like no other
I was the chosen intermediary
Carrying their messages diligently
The peacekeeper of the house
Keeping family secrets quiet as a mouse
Too clever for my young age
I became the family sage
Learning the art of improvise
Trying to get parents to compromise
It was a huge burden to carry
Acting as their emissary
On the shoulders of someone so young
At eight years old this was no fun
They were unable to make decisions
There were only divisions
A merry go round of hostility
I finally had enough servility
If I had any potential
Then escape was essential
Breaking loose of that scene
When I was eighteen
Christine Bolton
Word Prompts of the day:
Thank you for sharing this! Sometimes parents hurt their children and leave scars without an evil intent, but the hurt is real and the scars remain! Really loved this! Especially, your line – Living life under cumulus clouds! Almost the same as on eggshells!!
xoxoxo
Thank you Charles. Yes, I’ve used the eggshell line too from time to time 🙂
This poem has everything going for it – sadness, depth, relatability, and it is very compelling. Also, your creativity added even more interest. Brava!
Oh my gosh thank you! You are so kind 💕
My pleasure!
It is great that you can get in touch with your childhood self and see how far you have come!
Yes thank you. We have to, dont we? 🙂💕
painful but profound … you’ve come a long way since then and we do learn from our parents mistakes so you were wise to get out 🙂
Such a sad poem.Love your use of words and rhymes. Beautifully written!
Thank you my friend. Old memories have a way of surfacing but it’s cathartic to acknowledge them
They certainly do, and acknowledging them through writing goes a long way in the healing process; and you have the gift! 😊
That means a lot to me…thank you 😊
You’re very welcome! 😊
WOW. A great poem and weaving in so many prompts I think is really clever. I think it is much harder to use multiple word prompts in a poem than in a story.
Thank you Kristian. Painful poems require simple prompts! Kerfuffle would have been just wrong today!
Yes, that’s true, sometimes a good word prompt comes along at the right time and sometimes not…. 🙂
This is hauntingly beautiful and so sad. I had to think on how to express how it made me feel and even this is inadequate. Beautiful
Thank you. Mine are faded memories but they never disappear completely. We don’t realize as adults how much power we have over children. We learn from our parents 😢. I forgive them as they were just doing the best they could.
Your poem was very similar today.
💖💖