Chip off the old block
Thundering beat Demanding blood
How long does it take
Fifty third anniversary Of my first suicide attempt, Cord around my neck Locked in the breech, Twenty plus hours Of sweat and pain, First but not last, I’m cherished and loved, And still my thoughts go To the knife And…
The lies we tell ourselves And each other To hide the abuser, Twist in my gut. Keep the peace, Sweep it under the rug, Small wonder most abuse Won’t get reported.
Mental conversations With family, Has me pondering His funeral, And how I’ll react, Don’t hate me mother, It’s scary to show How much it hurts inside, Even now
Childish, churlish nature End result Parental fail Will the daemon-beast Learn from the world Or continue Shitting up it’s cage
Strife And learned behaviors Tension and disrespect A violent river Flowing both up And downstream Even watching from the shores You get lacerated By the spray