There's a fine line between

challenging someone intellectually,

and making them feel like

they are chained to a wall.

I was under the mistaken assumption

that because you got your new bifocals,

you could better see that line,

which was right under your nose

the entire time. But to you,

it spelled out my idiocy, my ineptness,

my linguistical and logistical inferiority,

though the words were blurry;

that's what you said you saw.

And since I'm not on your level,

I could never point out to you,

that you too, simply made a mistake

and you're no better than the rest of us.

If I could reach out to you,

back then,

I would come to you, little boy.

I would shield you with my strengthened arms,

and defend you

with my aged wit.

I see you, walking,

shoes untied, a little unsure

of how to tighten the knot,

with your little belt in hand,

fast approaching the school bully.

I am afraid to report,

that more consequences

are headed your way,

but it is not your fault;

for after all,

you have learned from the best.

Stay strong

little one,

with impossible dreams,

I shall be with you soon,

to save us both,

from our Makers.

Copyright © 1986-2017

Alan Salé

All Rights Reserved

contact: AASalehi@gmail.com

PoetryByAlan.com

I can't sleep most of the time

Cause I'm worried of being yelled at

With your cruel and vulgar words

Pounding in my head

Making me feel

As if I can not do anything.

You make me feel bad,

make me feel like shit.

I feel tired

and worn down.

I'm broken,

and it's because

of you.

I can't function

normally.

Because of you.

my new year's resolution

was to stop crying in front of you

to stop letting you hurt me

so bad, so frustratingly

easy the way

my tears would flood

when you'd raise your voice

when you pursed your lips so tight

shouldn't feel scared, but i am and it

hurts because, you know, we're blood

and we're supposed to love each other

but we don't

we won't

and that's not okay

i'm not okay

i promise

i need to stop

those insignificant thoughts

plaguing my mind

screaming with spit in my face

"i hate you" "i hope you die"

and it makes we wanna throw up, daddy

mommy's in pain

because she's a doctor and yet she can't fix us

she might psychoanalyze

and tell me that its you, not me,

but that doesn't make me feel any better

knowing that my red blood cells

deserve white rooms and straight jackets

and group therapy with strangers

that have you eyes

your smile i haven't seen

in such a long time

fuck my promise

all i can do is sob

and wish you were here

telling me

you're okay

©SelfTitled, 2017

When I was younger and would stay the night at my granny's

My dad wouldn't let me sleep in the spare bedroom or on the couch

in the cool living room

I had to sleep in his bed with him so he could slid his hand

into my pajama bottoms

At first I though he was doing it because he loved me but

When I got older I realized it was wrong.

When I was 16 I had to move in with them and nothing ever

Happened again but anytime I was in my room the door was shut and locked

He was no longer physically abusive but emotionally and mentally and that was

So much worse