I have never tried poetry but this seemed to want out. Warning: It is a bit dark. |
Mother I awaken to see blood, my emotions like a raging flood. The police with guns ready, my hands anything but steady. I ask, “Is this a dream?” My memories lost in a stream. What have I done? My troubles only begun. My hands are cuffed, my questions rebuffed. I am pulled to my feet, then thrown in car seat. They look at me with disgust, as my fate is discussed. I look down at hands crimson red, I look forward with dread. We drive on in silence, I battle with my conscience. As I am told of my crime, I feel as if covered in grime. This act could not be, it certainly was not me! They tell me my mother attacked, that it was me is a fact. I suddenly remember her cries, I ask, “Did she meet her demise?”. I am thrown into a cell, to face my own hell. It is coming back to me now, how could God thus allow. I remember the abuse, and how she would seduce. The taste of a mother's lips, and the rest of her bag of tricks. No son should ever know, all the rules she did forego. I was brought before the court, their vengeance I could not thwart. Their decision was made against me, but it was she who should not be free. They locked me away on a hill, to see her be free a bitter pill. But her father stood by my side, and my time I did bide. I longed to be avenged, but on ignorance I did depend. For in ignorance is bliss, and on the other side abyss. I was finally set loose, and with her I made truce. She would try it again, but my will was now sane. I would go my own way, to keep from being in that fray. But she put an end to her own life, which finally freed me from my strife. Wanda G – Based on true events |