A Home For The Broken People

Dear Brother,

1:17 a.m.
June 16th, 2020

Dear brother,
I know you dont understand.
But bruises and fathers sometimes go hand and hand.
Dear brother,
I know this may seem to far,
But your home and my house are worlds apart.
Dear brother,
When you see a lock on a door you go on your way,
When i see i lock i see a safe place.
I see shaky hands holding a doorknob and twisting many times- just to make sure the doors locked.
Dear brother,
When you lay in bed you go under the comforter and rest your head,
But my dear brother, comforters mean risks, and the silence means dread.
Dear brother,
You had a father who put bandaids on your cuts,
I had a monster who threw me until the cuts opened up.
Dear brother,
Sometimes when the lights go out.
My hands reach for my ears and i know people are about to shout.
You gave me hope for years, that maybe one day i could make him proud-
Dear brother,
I know you will never see it, the damage thats been done and the dammage that was made to be repeated.