Do you remember the first time your home stopped feeling safe?
Christmas Eve brought the gift of broken love,
and fractured my fragile world into lies.
My hero flooded the air with terror
while my mother’s suffering drowned my eyes.
When I was five, he exposed me to Truth;
heavy hands pinned me to my sacred bed.
My boyish heart thundered under his strength;
his immense power ensnared me with dread.
His intense energy scorched my spirit,
marking me with the anguish of old age.
Wrapped in darkness, heartbreak kissed my dry lips,
Suffocating me with the world’s hatred and rage.
—H, the boy who still hears the shouting
