Just beat it

I know its hard to talk about women who raise their children with more closed fist and open palms, than caresses. I know it makes the blood boil. But these mothers are out there, there's one too many. I can't give no one advice on how to raise no child, I do not have one. I can offer another perspective. For not too long ago I was a child too. You know, I do not exactly remember when my mothers palms stopped trying to find my back, I just remember the morning I decided to forgive it all. forgive her for never seeing anything else. for becoming the mirror image of her own parents.

When I go to my friend's house
I always do the dishes. though she never asks me too. It reminds me of being 12 in my mother's house. In Hispanic culture, you only become a decent woman when you know how to clean right. You clean everything, in the kitchen its not just dishes. I remember when I finally got it right. When I learned that you don't leave no food leftovers in the sink. I don't know if she was ever proud but a clean kitchen meant less yelling, so I went all out always.

"Beat it", "hit it", "smash it" are all popular terms for having sex nowadays.
I know you wonder why I am 22
and I barely do it, barely ever feel need.
why I am 'living' so little. But when those words are all too notorious and too familiar you start fearing them.
You no longer crave to exist beneath the
same roof as they do.

you go ahead and beat your children.
beat them until they are red, black and blue. but then, don't you ever question their relationships. don't ask them about their favorite colors or why on earth they wear long sleeves in the summer.