Posted by Maynerd on November 3, 2005, at 1:09:23
This morning I decided to clean the attic to see what I would find
The attic of course being a metaphor for the depths of my mind
I come across a box of dusty pictures from our long lost past
I see your picture on the top and the memories come so fast
We met the day I walked in on you washing in the men’s shower
Naked you stood in there talking with me for over an hour
From that first look we both knew the other was our world
Hand in hand and together we watched as chaos was unfurled
I can still hear you telling me about the childhood you went through
Sharing a little girl’s stories about what Daddy used to do
Telling me how she never used to know that it was called rape
Only that her souls dream was to finally be able to escape
When your Mom died from his abuse you finally ran away
Kept running until we met each other that fateful summer day
We both had found our freedom at last or so it would seem
Then the monster found you and made happiness but a dream
I walked into the room and saw you bleeding and crying on the floor
Daddy forcing his way with you while calling you his little whore
I looked into your eyes and saw your soul in deep pain
Snap goes something inside my mind and the world goes insane
I drug him off of you by his greasy hair then we started to fight
Until he laid me out on the floor with someone’s Mag-lite
I woke up to you standing over your Daddy holding his four-four
You shot him time after time until he wasn’t moving anymore
This last picture is of you crying putting the gun to your head
You told your Momma you were coming and then you were dead
poster:Maynerd
thread:574788
URL: http://www.dr-bob.org/babble/grief/20051017/msgs/574788.html