Getaway

She and my long dead father treat(ed) me the same way
As appendages to be used for their purposes
Not mine.

How similar can they be
When he drank too much
And she not nearly enough?
I do not understand.

He could be a happy drunk
Maybe once a year
But I, as a child,
Was always scared, nonetheless,
Running up to my room
To avoid the drunken rages
And nonsensical accusations
Of my part in the plots against him.

She has now crossed into that territory
Where her actions make no sense
To the undrunk
And uninformed outsiders
Who see only a caring grandmother,
A woman maybe a little too brash
But loving nonetheless

Only my M and I know the truth
For both these people
They blame us for their faults
Then attack us when we defend ourselves.

I don't want to live this way
But M doesn't care
(She has a stronger back than me)

So this summer will be quiet in Apt 404
Thankfully
And I will go to baseball games by myself
Knowing the alternative of explosive companionship
Is not worth the risk
To my mental well being.