My Dad Was My First Bully

A poem by an eldest daughter. - Kristina Ramos

My dad was my first bully.

Do you really need that second portion?

Insert any comment about my ingestion. 

It started early, elementary. 

Hiding my body, creeping out of my room.

He sat on the couch like a throne. 

He chose violence, he chose war.

I stood there at the threshold of my door.

Living room, more like a courtroom, passing judgement if I dared.

What are you wearing? You look like a whore, get back in there.

Learning to center a man’s needs 

Planted all the wrong seeds. 

Get fat, get back.

Get ugly, lose love.

No fun? Just run.

You’re just too sensitive.

I learned to live with it.

My dad was my first bully,

So I choose myself fully. 

The seed he tried to bury,

Is now a plentiful prairie.