Question

some ?poetry? I wrote when I was in my feels, lol (don't attack me if this isn't proper poetry!!)
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"hypocrisy", iffat fatima


on a cloudy summer [my birthday] night in july, my mother raises her voice,
for reasons i still do not yet understand.

and suddenly, i’m transported back to the dining table on a monday evening,
six years old once again.

my mind flashes with memories of how i cried into my palms and hiccuped in silence,

and i especially remember how a pencil would shake between my sore-from-writing fingers,

tears burning against the red, hand-shaped marks on my cheeks,

how my body would occasionally tremble with each step closer my mother took towards me,

how i’d tense harder in fear with each interval my father’s voice grew louder—

more irritated,
more disappointed.

and i sat there, wondering what was so wrong about not understanding long division.

then i’m back in class on a tuesday,

apologizing profusely to my teacher with trembling hands and glassy eyes for the eraser marks on my paper,

an act i was forced to do by my parents,
though i didn’t entirely know why i had to.

and i stood there, like a deer caught in headlights,
while my teacher simply stared and told me it was fine.

as i grew older, i’d get used to it all—
the screams, the fighting,
the pointless over explaining myself--
the now white noise, like background music that i learned to tune out.

though it never stops, not even for a moment— repeating as if it were a broken record.

but there’s only so much arguing i can take,
before it fills every crevice of each cell in my body in its wake
with the sound of madness.

and although i made an oath to myself that i’d never be like the figures who raised me,
that i’d handle myself with care when upset,
and ease the troubles of those around me with patience,

i realize that anger is a poison that slowly seeped in through the cracks i tried so hard to cement shut,
an ugly emotion that wrecked me from the inside out.

and so, i find myself behaving in the same way i vowed to never act,
becoming the very same monster that repeatedly tore the heart and soul
of the scared little girl in me
into shreds.

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I lowkey don't know how to feel about this, but :)

Answer 1

agh the formatting is wronggggg...

Answer 2

seems more of a story or a book