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| >> Static Item >> Poetry >> Personal >> ID #1527800 |
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I wake to see my shadow dancing
a portrait of me, strapped to a bed wondering why drugs won’t heal a battered broken brain that burst, beaten as a child by my stepfather lying to my mother with his kisses; a bunch of red roses in her hand to forgive him, he never hurt me. Mother apologizing to him, the devil in my memory fading to be a failure; disappearing there to an empty cell dressed in a veil twisted like a chain, to unshackle my mind to unwind as the confused child, wondering why his mother would leave him lying here, dreaming of yesterday! “My dad helping me mount a pony; proudly to let go of the reigns; for me to ride around on my own, waving and smiling; a happy child." Today I live with Dad on his farm riding horses most of the day. A calming way for some courage; not afraid to die here any more. Written for me, by embe a friend to help me; my hand still trembling; unable to write about it.
© Copyright 2009 embe (UN: embe at Writing.Com).
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