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My father
My father
Was a violent person
Hot tempered, serious, tense.
Always, always tense.
I tried to deny it
But deep inside
I feared him.
Whenever I sensed a sudden change in his eyes,
A sudden flicker of anger on his face,
And even a sudden thickness in the air,
The fear kept creeping back
It was not the alcohol
That turned him into a monster.
Just how, in the right mind of a person,
Punch his wife,
Tear her hairs out of her scalp
And leave her body with bruises?
Just how, in the right mind of a person
Abuse his wife in front of his daughter,
Nonetheless of her daughter’s presence?
He’d hurt me too sometimes
When I tried to intervene,
To save my weak mother away from his grip.
He never apologized.
Not even once.
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