I’m one of seven,

            the eldest in fact!

We were lucky, so people said,

            to have each other.

But no one ever really knows

What goes on behind closed doors.

My dad was a bastard

            To mum and me.

A bully, to my brother as well.

He cared nothing for no-one

apart from himself.

At sixteen I left him.

I slept rough for a while,

before living in a hostel

It was hard, but the fear had gone

His fist, foot or belt

could hurt me no more

I’m now married with

a good husband, and good kids

                        – safe kids

That just provokes him even more.

He resents my life and the journey I’m on

He hoped I would crumble,

            Be his victim


I am what I am, no heirs and graces.

I came from shit,

But I’m going somewhere,

        I hope!

I’ll get there despite him

He will never take the credit for me.