Dear Mama
Why?
Trigger warning. Abuse of all types. Intense emotionality. Spiritual questioning. Suicide and suicidal ideation. Profanity.
Dear Mama,
You signed me up for football. You never asked me. You just did it.
Why?
I was scared, Mama. Have always been a lover, not a fighter. Didn’t want to get beat up. Got enough of that at home.
Didn’t wanna hurt someone else. That would be stooping to Daddy’s level.
No therapy can help me. No meds will ever flow through these veins.
So I hid out in the locker room and wrote poetry. Shed a few tears but let no one see.
You taught me to trust no one, Mama. You taught me to mask every emotion. You beat the love of your god into me.
And by doing so? You beat god right out of me. Churches set themselves on fire when they see me. Nuns run away screaming. Priests confess their atrocities and then hang themselves in their own bathroom. By the damn shower curtains.
I may look strong now. But it was forced on me. Like Daddy forced himself on me. I still smell the beer on his breath. Still feel his massive hands beating the living shit out of me.
The flashbacks never go away. They haunt me. Destroy me day and night. Nothing can make it make sense. Nightmares keep me awake until my eyes lose focus. And I stumble though I ain’t had a damn thing to drink.
I worshipped Daddy. And the motherfucker told me to take it like a man.
Some days I curse my own birth. If you didn’t want me, why make me suffer?
I prayed for my own death. For any way out. But I was trapped. Silenced.
Went to school to escape home. Went home to escape school.
A living nightmare with no end in sight.
How could you tell me to protect my sister ~~ when I could not even protect myself?
I could forgive you but why?
You’re not sorry. Hell will freeze over before you apologize.
And so I am left alone to wonder why.
©️ 2026
AI pictures and story (no AI)
By Lamar Washington
All rights reserved
Not for reproduction
Hey bro. Thinking too much about the bad things of the past only brings pain. The future, to be honest, doesn't seem that great either. So: "carpe diem." Hugs.
This is a totally other comment. Read about the book of Job. It’s not about the devil vs god sports-betting on if a man will break. Take away god and the devil and you have a decent man who is met with trials and tribulations. And more. That is an aspect of life. The random cruelty of life. When bad things happen to me I say to me, “fella, you are Job. Shit is being rained down on you. You don’t deserve it but life don’t care. you’re Job.” It makes me stronger. “I’m Job.” It makes me a mythological biblical motherfucker. “I’m Job.” They wrote a fucking book about me.