Used to be Hero
Do you know? Do you remember? Things from long ago? Do you know that you used to be my hero? The person I thought I could always talk to? Do you remember when I called you mom?
I wish this letter was addressed to her; the woman I called mom; my hero. I used to think about asking dad where did you go; then I realized he was never there. So instead I realized the appropriate question for him is 'where have you been'. It was my hero who left me. It is you I must ask 'where did you go'. You used to be my hero.
Once upon a time,
You lived in Newell; Dad lived in Nisland. Matt and I we were at your house for the night. Mattie slept in our bunk in the back room. I slept on the floor in the livingroom. To raised voices I awoke. Daddy was drunk and you were fighting. You told him to leave and he grabbed Mattie. He took him out to his truck and you locked him out. To the door I ran screaming for Mattie, scared for my little brother. Not caring for my safety. You locked the door and pulled me back. Daddy soon was at the door screaming and pounding at the door for you to let him get his stuff. You ignored his rants and raves and called the police. I watched from the door as they arrived and Daddy, he put up a fight. The cops asked once, they asked twice, soon he was on the ground and put in vice. On his wrists they slapped the cuffs and dear little mattie was brought back to us. In the back of the police car Daddy went.
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