Shh!

it comes out like a threat:
that childish noise one
makes to gain silence
but I’m already there:
he knows this because
it’s not the first time but
he’s polished at pretending:
his stoned stumblings into
my space are jarringly wrong
yet i never cry out in distress:
he is the destined heir, the fated
male meant to carry on prized
surname no matter the means:
i feign stillness and wish him dead
as toxic breath dirties the air in
a room adorned with holy icons:
i fake sleep; grow nauseous; pray
frantically that God will fly in
to save me but he never does:
i grow skilled at keeping the quiet
as the only thing more sacred than
family is silence to its worth:
self-esteem dies a deviant death,
addiction becomes the norm,
depression and detachment are a constant:
Shh! advises the adult to kidhood trauma.
too late to tell, no one will believe,
rejection will bully your last nerve:
should it break out while breaking down
the ones in control will ask
‘why did you wait so long’:
shame, mostly, plus the fear
of re-victimization in the
groundswell of social media:
where few secrets are shushed!