that I understand why you drank.

For all these years I was angry and mad.

Now that I understand it makes me sad.

You drank to escape the fear and pain that

he inflicted on your body and mind.

He'd come home drunk and mad and make you

his punching bag.

You did it for us, you endured the beatings so that we, your children, wouldn't have to.

Even now, some twenty years later I still hear your agonized cries echoing through my mind.

Tears stream down my cheeks as I remember the bruises covering your body.

Now that I'm older I understand the only escape you knew was in the form of a bottle.

But after we grew, you grew too.

You grew brave and left that hell you were condemend to.

You stayed all those years out of fear that we'd be hurt.

Once we had gone from home you managed to free yourself of him once and for all.

I'm proud of you and love you with all my heart, I just want you to know this.

(This was about the hell my step father put my mom through)