Disconnected Connection

So I know we all have problems with our parents.Still I come to realize that most people have problems as in "too many chores" or "over protective" And let's not lie,a lot of y'all think that your parents are annoying and you hope you're adopted sometimes.And then there are people like me.People who were abused.Priority zero to a woman who wouldn't know parenting if it hit her as hard as addiction did.I was a crack baby.Born at 5lbs2ounces,but I was blue.I had air,it was probably just so clouded,or the shock of my journey out the wastelands into freshness hit me too hard.My Grandma told me the whole thing.Said every time she look at my baby pictures she pray more and she's more thankful to God.
Both my parents at one point in time were Crack addicts.My Father kicked his habit when our family started growing and he wanted the peace he had grown up with.He did grow up in a different household than my Mama.Hobbies,hugs,two parents,motivation,good words and encouragement.My mama grew up with a Resentful Mama who kept her Father from here,made she she was clear that she loved/liked my Auntie ,my mom's sister,more.She was accustomed to the party life when she was 12.That's all Grandma did.She had grown up with my Daddy and they were dating,she had her first child with my Father.Then she met a man, when she was still a girl of 15 and had her first son.Yeah moms got around.Two years later she met a army man and had her second daughter.Three kids before 18.Nothin new in the ghettos of Chicago.She was with my father mostly though.Together they made 9 children.Two of my sisters died at birth.Complications;from what I still don't know.She had another son too.By this time she and my daddy finally got married!After playing house for 20 years.My dad was in a comma for 2months and she had sex with someone else.We,meaning,my other siblings&I didn't know he was only our half brother till his real daddy took him away.My mama didn't even fight for him and he gave her a chance.She didn't want 'another one' as we were called.But we lived decently considering we lived in the actual 'hood'.
Occupied by gangs,drug lords,bogus DEA.It was TNT every day with no script.We knew drama too well.Daddy worked great jobs in sanitation and engineering.As good as it was for the 90s.The drama really started July 4,1996.He was murdered.I talk about this a lot,but that's because it is forever engraved in my mind and part of the unrest in my soul.He was stolen and I hated God for a long time.He took all I had.My daddy was my hero,My best friend,And I was 5 years old when 7 hollow points from a .45 took him outside of the house that summer.In front of all of us.His gunman walked the same day.And so did everything I believed in.For 5years it was hell.Big bro in jail always,hustling for all survival,all my sisters either pregnant or in and out of Juvi and jail.Yes delinquents,but we have minds.One reason I never understood why we sometimes as a family chose to suffer instead of resolve.The center to an extent "Mama".I never saw her.When I did she was high or drunk or both.I had hella "uncles".Especially when my older sister's weren't home.I knew they wasn't no uncles of mine especially when the hugs would linger too close and the hands would travel to places my daddy's brothers never would have.Twice she gave me to men when she didn't have enough money for what she really loved or was just too messed up to distinguish me from currency.It was my fault for "sticking my butt out when I walked".What butt woman?!I was seven!I wasn't payin attention to what my non ass did.As far as I knew I was just walkin.When I expressed that confusion I got hit a lot.Or when she didn't wanna look at me.Cigarette burns didn't hurt that much,but skillets and or pots thrown at you,leave some reminders.Or the good times with that twisty thing on the blinds right after you got out the tub.I was 10 when I started cutting.Everybody else already hurt me so I figured I'd teach myself to become accustomed to pain.And to see just how deep it would go before I'd bleed so I'd know how much I'd be able to take.That and I figured something was wrong with me.So it was my fault for not being better.Better than what?Fuck if I know.Even when we moved here in 2005 it was the same.She was clean,then she wasn't.She stayed home and made dinner then she made me wanna die.Finally when I was 16 I got emancipated.The worst thing I could ever do happened.I lost control and sight of myself.I was the fuse and she was my own personal flame.So I went to the Bridge and I started my own chapter.I'm a sophmore in college now,but when I'm alone,I go back to it all.It's still haunting after all these years and I still talk to my mom,but I wish I could let go altogether.Our relationship is like one big police report....A cold case


It's like you play with my heart to play with my mind,
intertwined are the two because I think how I feel
And I feel that you change to adapt to circumstance.

• Opportunistic optimism,the words from your lips pierce like a sharp venom
  to any love that I have dwindling for you.
  We only get two, but it was like I had one,add some hollow points to the math and I'm left with none.
  Just this 'some one' who happened to give birth with one accursed to be misunderstood.
  For years I hoped that if I was a good girl, I would get those good things back.
  Like some kind words and attention, you know stuff like that and I did I won't lie,but the ration was so intense my self hatred grew,followed by self mutilation,when I'd dig just deep enough to release some ease.
  Never at ease, because I was hurting to remember what it felt like to heal.
  Cause you know, not all wounds, even with time, can heal.
  And still I can't sleep,I hurt more when in you I try to believe.
  It's like I still bleed.
  Like I died and each time when I find dreams accidental,
  I'm dead all over again.
  Murdered and then forgotten in my own right.
  This case is cold and I'm the frost bite.