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Rated: E · Poetry · Family · #1735059
a poem comparing my childhood to that of a war survivor, not always a soldier.
I’ll keep these old prescription bottles
Empty tubes of mascara
Charred photo albums
Broken razor blades
And sew them onto my sleeves
Like Purple Hearts
Decorating the war record of my childhood
Father, what have you done?

Silver Stars
Tarnished brass buttons
Crisp brown sleeves
Shiny, shiny shoes
Hide your blood
Scrub away my tears and fears
Lying and saying it’ll be better some day
Father, what have you done?

You saw her
You ignored them
Your heart a useless muscle
Flooding every stream of blood in your body
Except your brain
It didn’t matter to you
It never should have mattered to us
Father, what have you done?

The house was quiet
The four winds shattered the trees
The ghosts almost took him
Told him you were gone
You almost took her
We almost lost everything
I said we were never yours
Father, what have you done?

I sit here now, blood boiling, fitful rage
There’s nothing I could ever do
Regret
The only way out is to forgive, forget
How can I believe
When words like “love” and “life”
Become so trivial so quickly
Father, what have you done?
© Copyright 2010 Cym Lauing (cym_06 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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