Family Tradition

Every word crafted a red shard of glass piercing my soul. 

You called it a father’s unconditional love. 

You said your father loved you that way. 

You are just continuing tradition with me. 

You sweep the shards under hateful gazes. 

I better understand my place you said. 

So start sweeping and plaster a fake smile on your face. 

Pretend we are a happy family and don’t breathe a word 

of your destruction. 

Then I looked at you and said NO. 

Then your twisted smile replied you are not part of this family. 

I replied with my tear stained eyes I know. 

I am my mother’s daughter.