Bodies harbouring demons
Fantasies twisted breaking ground
Sons tormenting daughters
Fathers setting upon sires
Burying cherries
Storms taking traction
Delusions unmasked
Abyss upon girl child
Pleasure reversed
Dopaminised agony
Tuned screams
Stinging slaps
“There are two sides in every story”
Demented man..
Why are you flirting with the devil?
Baring your sacred soul to folly?
Did your mother not impact you?
Was it your elder brother who turned against you?
Coming to your bed in the dead of night
Or was it your uncle?
Perhaps your “friends”
It doesn’t matter the perpetrators
It must have been a nightmare
That it blackened your soul this way
You never told a soul
It must have been haunting
Cocooning what you named shame
Feeling all alone
Unloved and unwanted
It must have tormented you
That you chose to plug out your own heart
Bury it in the deep of seas
Where you couldn’t retrieve it even if you wanted
It was not your fault
But choosing damnation rather shame was your mistake
The first and greatest
Your only error
But……
Maybe you were too young to process
Blaming your mother who never came to aid
Sires who never noticed
Who never intervened
As their jolly child withdrew
Laughter that dried up
Isolation
Loose of interests
Screams
Silent tears
Nightmares
Sweaty nights
Am truly sorry son..
Am filled with a stormy rage
A lump has me tongue-tied
Seeing the story from another angle
Walking in your shoes for a flitting moment..
Am devastated by the sting of that first slap
On your 3year old chin
That your brain flipped
Lights must have gone out
Everything became upside down
From that moment
Maybe irreversible
Pain
Blackout
Dark
Sores
Scary
Doom
Confusion
Am so sorry son..
That you were only three
There was no getting joy
From the norm
After that
Laughter became alien
Nerves impaired
Hormones mixed
Receptors reversed
Being defined by that singular moment in your innocence
Now….
Finding joy in hurt
Delighting when others hurt
Glorifying in their pain
Enjoying their tears
Your perception became perverted
Your thought process in reverse gears
Considering your tormentor/s shook you up pretty; literally
The world must have landed on your shoulders
Upon the slaps impact
The blackout
Must have been instantaneous
Am so sorry son…
Tears cloud my eyes
No one came to talk you down
When you stood on the edge
When you could barely stand on the cliff with bleeding feet
The ledger had become your Constance
Your formative had been there
The ledger had defined you
When no one could hear your plea of help
When they could not see your tears
Am so sorry son..
When I look into your mind and see only blackness
All that time on the cliff has zeroed to who you are now
Tears your waterfalls
Sight of your bleeding feet
Is now your favourite colour
The echoes of all your screams
Now your favourite tune
How your mind is twisted
Am so sorry son..
When I know even animals grasp the concept of love
The inflicting pain from your agressor/s
Dopaminised as pleasure
Stinging slaps and whipping
The only game you endured to full-time
Blood
Tears
Screams
Begging
Pleading
Keywords for your autograph
Am so sorry son
That no one came to your aid
Not once
As you stood
Shaking
Bleeding
Shuttered
Broken
On that cliff
On that ledge
That has become your only memory
That has molded you
That unleashed the beast in you
That made you in the image of your tormentor/s
(Look out for part 2)
