I'm Glad I Didn't Get The Chance

Dear someone I thought I knew well,

If I had the chance,

I would have asked

who,

what,

when,

where,

why,

and was.

Who else did you hurt?

I already know about her.

I already know about them.

I already know about myself.

But I've heard whispers

and I can't help but wonder

how long the list of victims is.

What caused you to be this way?

Are there things that happened

that you never told anyone,

things that warped your brain

into thinking that it was all okay?

Maybe it's because of our history,

I want to hope that's the case.

When did your conscience

finally kick in and start screaming

that what you did was wrong?

Was it incessant whispers

that you tried to ignore,

or was it like recurring dreams

that took away your sleep?

Where did you find the audacity

to look people in the eye

with the same ones that saw the horror,

smile and lie through your teeth,

and play the part of a perfect father?

How could you play with

everyone's emotions and opinions?

Why? Just why?

It's one of my two top questions.

What was your reasoning

behind every dreaded time

you took another piece

of innocence?

Did you think normalcy was too easy?

Was there ever a thought

that if you only had the chance,

you would do to me

what you did to her?

Honestly, even if I had the chance,

I don't think I would ask that.

I already have a hard enough time sleeping.

Sincerely,

Your family member

*This poem is one of many in my book "instead of therapy: poems and lyrics about struggling and healing". It has been edited. If you enjoy this poem, check out my book and some of my other work here on Vocal +.