May 2019
You, on the High road,
You're lower than you've ever been
Stomping on her fragile glass
with the hammer of your selfish whims
smashing perfect gilded dreams
hiding in skeletal remains unseen
that might have been;
a chance to right the wrong you did
was a never a thought, a notion, or wish...
Clutching her spine with all your grip
you twist
you win
You, on the High road
Lower than you've ever been.
You're lower than you've ever been
Stomping on her fragile glass
with the hammer of your selfish whims
smashing perfect gilded dreams
hiding in skeletal remains unseen
that might have been;
a chance to right the wrong you did
was a never a thought, a notion, or wish...
Clutching her spine with all your grip
you twist
you win
You, on the High road
Lower than you've ever been.
This poem is in honor of the lost girls and boys who lived a tortured childhood, as I did in the empowered hands of a step parent set on power, control and evil.
My child hood was taken when my father married his second wife. She literally beat the life out of me.
My child hood was taken when my father married his second wife. She literally beat the life out of me.
