My Father’s Hands are not mine.
Though through my veins his blood flows.
It also flows from Mama’s nose.
Like a dog, loyalty is her act.
My Father’s Mouth is not mine.
He spits in her face, while holding her neck.
Words of pain… Heartless and pathetic.
Like razors they cut accurate… Deep.
Fear is the seed in the mind of the weak.
Sit down! Shut up!… I say when you speak!
A Keyhole is my window to torture.
Flowers and Candy just bullshit He bought Her.
Her sweet soul hides behind dark shades and pain pills.
Until she no longer feels.
My Mother’s Hand’s are not mine.
Though through my veins Her blood flows.
It also flows all over Daddy’s clothes.
Out of His chest jagged silver grows.
Mama’s beautiful face now cold as stone.
A Keyhole… My home sweet home
©R. Marrs 2014.