damage cycle

Not every habit is meant to be heard—

and some should never be passed down.

Cruel words, spoken so often they became second nature,

would spill out the moment anger showed its face—

the tongue running wild,

poisoning the air with insults aimed straight

at pride and ego.

I was just a little kid once,

peeking from behind my bedroom door,

watching Mommy and Daddy

play the “angry game.”

That’s when new words came into the room—

sharp, heavy, designed to wound.

I didn’t understand them at first…

until I did.

Being an only child made me a quiet observer.

I studied the pain on Mommy’s face,

the way her eyes would shatter

with every word Daddy threw at her—

his voice rolling like constant thunder,

refusing to stop until

her tears finally fell.

I hated seeing her cry—

hated those dark, trembling rivers

running down her cheeks.

I always wanted to help…

but I didn’t know how.

So yes, I learned

some heavy words far too young.

I even used one once—

on Miss Vickers in second grade

for being cruel.

It got me in trouble

with Mommy and Daddy—

but no one ever made me understand

how they could say those words freely…

and I was never supposed to.