Just a Teen | Teen Ink

Just a Teen

February 11, 2015
By happysappygirl101 GOLD, WonderLand,
happysappygirl101 GOLD, WonderLand,
11 articles 0 photos 10 comments

Favorite Quote:
Words are tools; to educate, support, mend, and express. They shouldn't be used to break down each other's minds... they should be used to fill the empty spaces in our heads with insight, in order to see what most eyes can't.

“He was just a teen”
That was your excuse for every bump, lump and bruise you failed to see
I stirred the pot with my personality
I’m sorry for ruining his reality by living
Breathing, sleeping, waiting, but no screaming
Blood, cries, anguish, fear, hidden in halls and behind backs
Monsters aren’t in movies; they’re in our homes
Morphing trust into turmoil, turning touch into terror
Now to me, a comforting hug  is now a constricting danger
Sudden scares from harmless sounds send me into a state of shock
I can almost see his large structure, his deadened eyes, his clenched fists
But he’s older now, and he “played so well with his playmate”,
It was just a game, I forgot that fear is fun
That scars are secret
That “boys will be boys”
So it’s forgiven

“He was a teenage boy” you say
“It’s not his fault, forgiveness is key”,
Is forgiveness also the key which unlocked our front door
And allowed this insidious intruder in who took the form of family
In order to not “rock the boat”?
Or is forgiveness the key that turned the wheel in his mind,
Setting off a chain of thoughts and feelings inside,
His mind a factory feeding off fury, the by-product being pain
You played supervisor, gave him authourity to act upon urges
By hiding behind clean kitchens, family photos, and trips to the grocer’s,
And allowed him to pour the waste of his burdens on to me?
You knew clearly his temperamental tendencies,
But claimed it was teenage angst, and so you forgave him
When he yelled at you, you forgave him
When he hurt me, you didn’t see
How your precious boy could possibly be a problem
He was; my weakness was his solution
And for now he has his answers
He walks in cities and streets, confident and without consequence
He’s free to roam, yet I’m trapped in distrust’s walls
This prison cell, my only safety
Home sweet home will be my haven
Until he comes back with more questions and rage to release
That only my silent suffering can solve
Because if I smile and say cheese for the camera,
Your son can be “just a teen” since 16
And, if I’m a good little girl,
I can be six feet under

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