Shadow child

I was born in a house of screams,

Walls covered in fists instead of caresses.

No arms to hold me when it was dark,

Only the trembling of my little bones was real and clear.

Mother? A word I could never grasp,

A photograph perhaps, but the face had been cried away.

Father smelled of booze and old wounds,

Every sentence a punch, every night a new green.

I wore fear like a second skin,

Putting it on in the morning, peeling it off bloody in the evening.

"You're worthless"—the mantra of my childhood,

And I believed every word that screamed from the chaos.

In the mirror, I always saw only the flaw,

A boy who breathes too loudly, who cries too softly.

Hidden bruises under long sleeves,

And asked God why he meant me of all people.

Years slipped by like heavy chains,

I ran away, but carried the hell inside me.

Until one morning, quietly, almost tenderly,

The truth gently knocked on the door – it wasn't any lighter.

But now I see the threads that tore me apart,

See the little boy who only wanted love.

It was never my fault that love was missing,

It was never my mistake – I was just the victim still rolling.

Today I stand here, the scars long since faded,

Not gone, but finally no longer my fault.

I no longer hate what I became,

I finally embrace who I was allowed to remain.

Mother without a name, father without peace –

I don't forgive, but I won't break anymore.

I am the child who survived,

And finally, finally – I breathe only for myself.