Six years old. Mask on my face. Plastic sword in my hand. I crept into his room, Reached into his pocket, Searching for some coins. His eyes snapped open. He snatched the sword out of my hand And cracked it across my back. When Mom came home, I ran to her. She saw the marks beneath my shirt. She pulled me close and held me tight. A boy in a costume, A broken plastic sword. A boy in a costume, The marks beneath his shirt. A boy in a costume, He’s running to his mom. A boy in a costume, Still shaking in her arms. He was drinking in the kitchen. Mom walked in. The shouting began. I stood behind her, Holding my breath. He threw a plate. She ducked away. It shattered on my face And left a scar on my cheek. At twelve, he sent me to his sister’s To ask her for a loan. I stayed out playing in the street Instead of going home. Then I heard my mother call "AVI, RUN!!!" A boy with a scar, Still running down the street. A boy with a scar, He’s holding back a scream. A boy with a scar, His father close behind. A boy with a scar, Still running in my mind.
