Author Information
Young Wildfire Flames
A little boy;
A big bottle kept capped
Wobbles and clinks hate
Almost at it's tipping point
On the brink
Maybe already too late
His father;
His rising sun, his shooting star
Drinks day to day
Drinks every drop
Drinks left of what he's got
Drinks it all away
And for the boy;
The bottle kept capped
Rattles to explain,
"These little words are my big words.
They are you fate.
I hate you. I hate myself."
And for the burst of young wildfire flames,
They need to be put out
But no, they stay
Because his father won't even
take a sleeve to wipe his tears or snot away
Instead, the father grabs his son;
his bottle, his hate
Picks him up by the throat
With grit teeth spits,
"What did you say!?"
Slams the little body through
an old abandoned table set
Never once used
Home cooked meals or
Family closeness never a get
Not a few
Only thing to come of it is
A clash, a bang
Then the father;
The rising sun, the shooting star
In a daze
Flashes back to an earlier time
Eight years old again
Quiet, shy
Views has dad as a sick bastard
A dog who barks
"Hard liqour is as soft as water"
Who drinks day to day
Drinks every drop
Drinks left of what he's got
Drinks it all away
He watches his dad
Sit alone at the old table
That had just been broken
Now it's put together
like nothing ever happened
So he plops down by
the sick bastard dog
Points to the bottle, tilts his head,
and asks why?
His rising sun, his shooting star
Climbs mighty high
Looks at him mockingly
whispers back a disgusted
dragged out "wwwhhhyyyyy?"
A devilish grin curls reeking lips
Lets out a not so fun dark red laugh
Grabs the half empty bottle hard
All too quick
Splashes his boy in the face
Burning frightened eyes
Burning an eight year olds pride
Then takes a swish
And his old shaky voice
Rattles to explain
while the little boy,
who in reality outside of his mind
turned twenty-eight today,
Sniffles a quiet shy cry and
waits for his dead fathers
answer as to why
Finally, the dog barks,
"These little words are my big words.
They are your fate.
I hate you. I hate myself.
So this is why, why, why.
There is just too much pain.
Your mother died yesterday,
My beloved wife.
So that is the excuse for today
And for the rest of my life."
