I was born into a broken home.
In a house where love and hate were equal.
A house where it was normal to be hit, yelled at or punished for the slightest mistake.
It was a house where it was normal to shout insults.
A house where it was normal to throw things against the wall.
A house where it was normal to lie.
A house where it was normal to slam doors and break things.
A house in which one was taught that feeling is only for the weak.
A house that gave me the wrong idea of love.
“I only do this out of love”
A standard sentence that I heard after a punishment.
I loved this house.
It was my home.
But when I realized how toxic this house was, I just wanted to leave.
This house took away my childhood.
I love my parents.
But I hate them for what they taught me and for showing me a false image of love.
I don't have a home anymore.
It was taken away from me along with my childhood.