Cry Baby

I am the ultimate cry baby.

“Punished” twice

And all I’ve learned is that I am really good at crying.


The first time Daddy was upset.

I had left school without telling him

And the cops that gathered said I was missing.


It was a simple mistake, one we could laugh at

But for some reason Daddy thought otherwise.


The impact of a belt on your skin is supposed to hurt.

I wouldn’t know because I didn’t experience it.

I felt a breeze on my bum and a clench at my throat as I began to cry, baby.


Making Daddy think I was in pain made him hurt instead of me.

My siblings glared at me without tears in their eyes

And swollen red marks on their backs.


My second punishment came from my Mother.

I was older.



My mom had caught me and my siblings with cigarettes clinging between our teeth.

Hysterical yelling of killing ourselves

And flailing of arms.


At the end of the line I prepared myself for my act.

The cracking sound of my mother’s hand to my siblings cheeks rang out.

When she stood in front of me, I looked up at her with tear filled eyes ready to cry, baby.


The softest touch a slap has given

A caress instead of pain

As she walked away, I saw my siblings staring back at me with red cheeks and looks of disgust.


I am the ultimate cry baby.