The Bitter End to a Fathers Fists

its sad I’m better off on my own,
I’ve settled with the burning sounds,
announcing their victory so vile and proud,
the embers ignite the tips of my fingers,
the smoke corrodes and pinches my lungs,
flowing out the cracks of my teeth,
so bent and blistered my thoughts,
so beaten down, crouching in the corner of my old bedroom,
a shining light stained my mind,
as if it were whiskey on my fathers dried lips,
his fists like a blueprint on the back of my head,

and now i no longer leave a trail of life where i plea,
i am nothing to my father on earth,
but everything to my Father above.

The Bitter End to a Fathers Fists

thevagrant

Joined February 2008

  • Artist
    Notes

Artist's Description

about a boy i knew
rest in peace

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