Silent Attack

A year has passed so slow yet so quick. Memories of chaos, once so clear, now form as blotted scar tissue on the brain.

The day of the attack still pristine and the words uttered by my confused voice box continues to echo.

The silent attack in the cold basement with my head on the concrete floor and my dad’s large body on top of mine. It came out of nowhere, it seams yet his gorilla glaring anger had always frightened me as a child.

A loyal troupe of defenders and deniers makes my confession left in a vacuum along with other violations that I suffered along the way as a self esteem magnet of mayhem which finally made sense that day laying on the ground.

Time passes and the story gets old to the few empathetic folks that dare to share in the shock and pain. Those humans must get on with the reality of future obligations, no loss can be expected to keep in the forefront forever.

Holidays and birthdays are meant for reflection and tucked away at all other times. Hoping that the heart of his conscience burns forever in remorse that can be felt in a dimension beyond dark justification.

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