Coming Home

The lights are flickering past
And my mom turns around to make sure we’re okay
Watching over us
And my father drives without saying a word
A midnight hero
A steady hand
A guardian

And sometimes he loses control when we're home
(we don't talk about that)
Sometimes he scares me
Sometimes he hurts me
(we pretend it's not happening)

It’s random
The flashes of anger
The hatred
It's random

And it's the hatred that hurts me the most.

The words eviscerate me
But I’m used to it
The fists, the punches, the anger from nowhere
I’m used to it

But the hatred?
How can you hate me so much for doing nothing but being your child?
How do you do that to your own child?

The lights are flickering past
And I am safe
In the backseat of the car.

But eventually we’ll be back home.