Dear Dad,

I forgive you for all of the abusive years. For all the times that you had me reduced to tears.

But as I write this, I really don't mean it, because you've shattered my heart with your drunken

bullsh*t. I hate and despise you more than you could know, because the flashlight scar on my

mother's head still shows. On my left arm, I can still feel your hand holding tight; And with your

other, you took my mother from my sight.

My sister and I hid under the bed -- holding each other and crying. Outside, the officer took

you away; Inside, my mother was dying. Months went by, I thought she was dead. I'd wished I'd

put a bullet in your head. Then one day, there she was. Something on her head -- tears in her

eyes -- she gave us our hugs. My memories and tears I locked behind a door. And to think, I

was only four. People wonder why I'm so cold? It's because you still have your choke hold. Now,

people wonder why my mother has cried? It's because she could not save what has died. She

could not save her little boy.



Your Loving Son,

Roy





By: Roy Quebedeaux