(poems go here)Since you were formed with your mothers promiscuity and your fathers control issues we knew you were going to be different. Knew the world might hold a grudge on you because of your broken down family tree.
You came out the womb so colicy that the doctors could sense the fear in your cries. Your facial features never painted a good image.we could see the red rage hidden in your innocent pupils, we could smell the fear under that similac residue hidden beneath your smile. Although you never smiled much, never giggled at silly faces or bright new toys you were different and we all knew it.From your endless hours of sleep and constant need to be alone, we knew you weren't ready to be a player in this game of life. you weren't ready to hear the criticism and fucked up jokes of your mothers rapings and your fathers criminal record. You were innocent, each cheek bone glistened in the sunlight. Every fingertip slowly caressed objects not snatching them from their comfortable position. Each smile broke caves open revealing endless possibilities in the center of your mouth. but every cry would hit like rainstorms, and endless shower of tears and pain rushing down your undeveloped cheeks, you weren't ready. The first step you took were one of many, but these were the steps were you weren't knocked down, the only chance to roam free upon the earth without distractions or constant opinions... but as time progressed and that soft spot began to fade, you suddenly became aware of the surroundings that locked you up, caged you in, pulled you back to a time were you didn't even exist. a past that you had no part in.
Your mothers constant moans of pleasure seeping out that bedroom door would quickly be replaced with yammered cries and thunderous screams.
washing away any joyous mood you obtained for that day because you were the surgeon piecing back together your mothers broken heart, sewing it up with promises and hope that might not ever come true. You were the nurse wiping the sweat off her beaten breasts while rubbing alcohol on her wounds, and man it burned seeing her broken.
your mothers continuous trail of white rocks sprawled upon the table lead you on a path you felt lost in. You were just a child, but your dads progressive tone sent chill waves up your spine snatching those butterflies out your stomach and changing them into leeches, sucking every morsel of blood out of you. sucking the life out of your not yet lived life. So everyday on that bus to school you were constantly harassed by the choice of returning back to the fire pits of hell or allowing your self to ride back to a place where you felt safe and secure. That time where you were just a tiny sperm cell, not yet intertwined with eggs because as a sperm cell you were surrounded by a million boys and girls just like you. although unlike them you were the "lucky one", the lottery raffle and your ticket got called you were brought here unprepared, unaccustomed to life.
You never have enough courage to stay on that seat so you are pushed off that bus. Your constant fears can push you off the balcony but they never have. never were strong enough to save you. Never allowed those monsters to stop finding comfort under your bed so every night they would tug at your feet, forcing you to be lowered into an abyss of despondency. No boogie man could ever change your fears hidden beneath your pillow. No guy named Freddie could ever sneak into your dreams and produce a scarier nightmare then you were already in. You tried to jam objects in you ears to hush the pain hidden behind every piece of dry wall, placed behind every door, every screech in floors... Screamed! You were different, you lacked stability, lacked faith in your self all because when you were sitting in heaven god forced you to have to live in a dead home. Your mother was so foolish and your father was too demanding to be able to create function in you while trying to piece up his own dysfunctions.
Now nearly years later you sit in an open casket; with your arms crossed placed upon your pelvis. eyes no longer witness nightmares or delusions. The only object your fingertips will ever get to caress is the inside of satin silk caskets. the insides of closed tombs because finally at age 10 you had the courage to jump off that balcony.