Throwback to Poetry! Wooden Doors

Bumping like that…

Eminem hit, Cleaning Closets…

Window watching,

Peering at walls declining

Off the area, women sneer at each other.

As if blood is discolored, like rusty tap water.

Affection, an idea fallen short of a stick that never grew.

Not rooted, like the tree towering the edifice, masked as home.

We boarded it up, with discolored red walls…

I’m saying love between mother and daughter,

Should smell like the scent of roses and feel like the warmth of the sun.

Instead eyes burned like fires, and daughter struggled to be held by her mother.

Me…Bystander…Caught in the middle, of an old family feud.

I didn’t recognize the hate boiling under grandmother’s skin

Ignited by grandfather, driven by uncles;

Sanctioned as brothers to my mother, they all drink from the same cup.

While, I begged to be recognized as an individual and reminding the love.