My dad called me a little bastard once (I’d inadvertently prevented him from having a quick catch up with his fugly mistress before picking my mum up from work ). It did shock me to begin with, but then I realised he’d just insulted himself if you look at all the definitions of the word!!I can so relate to this poem. I didn't get out as early as I could. I went, I returned & stayed too long but that's a whole other story & one I don't want to share) while my childhood wasn't awful compared to so many it was very stressful, (I was Ella but my mum wasn't a Narc) it was dysfunctional & fucked me up way beyond adulthood. It's only really been the last decade (my 60th) I have finally come to terms with & understood all the dynamics, etc made peace with it all though scars remain but I am damn sure my childhood is why I never wanted kids.
@M33L4 - my parents never swore at me. I don't have kids myself but I am sickened that anyone could think it's acceptable. Words wound.
While physical scars can fade, words (& how they make us feel) never do.
And no, I’ve never forgotten!