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Porcelain Boy
Contributed by
amber_vonHorror
on
Monday, 25th May 2009 @ 05:28:53 PM in AEST
Topic:
SadPoetry
|
He's sitting by the stairs. His heart beating
Through his chest
Waiting for the door to open
He wished, his tears run less.
Clutching that pretty butcher knife
He couldn't bear it anymore
Hiding his face under a blanket
Shielding his baby blues
So the fist wouldn't scar them
His ankles bashed the hardboard
Anxious? No. Just broken. Just sore.
The purple on his wrist
Caught the attention of his eyes
He hid his arms in regret
That he let this man ruin his life
Well,
it would be no more
When he came through that door
He'll reject the thumps.
The pain, the slowing of his bloodstream
That moment he dreams
That the ground would swallow his body whole
Cause the bruises ached right into his soul
Door knob
His heart, almost stops
And he stares into the eyes
Of the man who takes his life
His fear. The butcher knife it falls from his hands
He stares at the floor
Feels the kick in his guts
His insides tearing up
Pleads to God to take him away
Tastes the blood slide down his tummy
Hugs himself a rocking chair
In the mirror, a stranger stares
The bruises, the scars
Those painful marks. They fade
His father's hand squeezing the life
Out of his heart? Forever.
That stays.
Copyright ©
amber_vonHorror
... [
2009-05-25 17:28:53]
(Date/Time posted on
site)
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Re: Porcelain Boy
(User Rating: 1 )
by thumper on
Monday, 25th May 2009 @ 09:26:57 PM AEST
(User
Info | Send
a Message)
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If this is true, I feel for you. The scars fade but the memories live on, with a life of their own. I know. If it's not true, then you paint a very vivid picture of parental abuse, and the struggle a child goes through wanting it to end. Very good write.
Peace to you,
Thumper ;o) |
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