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THE INHERITANCE OF ABUSE
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JOURNAL #19 I rise and go
the way of the weariest night
alone yet not so alone
through shrouded maddening mists
like stale tea stained alabaster
flawed upon perfection's assembly
line
my pale and purpose fully plummeted
plight
a raw leather whip
that beats salt from the bloodied harp
of my tear drained laughter
as so empty eyed stares I even a
cosseted child would stifle his appall
in the wake of such a night's arrogant
admission
I am best put upon
utterly drawn and careless as I crawl
on wounded elbows and knees
half starved from anger's bitterest gall
to the house on the hill
where only others love to refer to as
my home
through the opulent grid iron gates
that only further imprison my tortured
character's shredded wisdom
trust
an ugly rusty nail
used upon me
numerous times long ago
to shush my terrified screams
this shadow of a child
only grew up so to murder its adult self
so to firmly put a stop to
the inheritance of such unspeakable abuse.........
(Dec. 28,1998)
