Author: Gregory E. Lacy PM
There is only so much misfortune one soul can take. But even then, it can never be left alone. Rated M for some strong language and mild suggestive dialogue.Rated: Fiction M - English - Angst/Tragedy - Words: 466 - Reviews: 2 - Published: 03-02-11 - Status: Complete - id: 2895648
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WRITTEN BY: Gregory E. Lacy
Born from the bitch's womb, I am.
A life of pain is where I'm damned.
Peace is but a long-dead lie,
Beaten, hung, and crucified.
Evicted from my unborn room
And taken to the house of doom.
I am too young to abhor
To speak the words that I'd adore
All I have to say,
Sticks and belt promise me hurt.
They serve as breakfast, lunch, and dessert.
The only music I'm allowed to hear
Is their abusive screams in my ear.
What is love? I do not know.
Certainly not this hate they show.
My father as a drunken boar,
and Mother as a useless whore.
And still I can't say,
Sitting in a measly desk,
Surrounded by my classmate pests.
Ridiculed as the school-based troll,
For things that are beyond control.
Flakes, freckles, blemished skin
is what they see as horrible sins.
Laughs and rather hateful sounds
are what that help me to the ground.
A worthless, penniless, costing chore,
I can't even say,
Then I would meet the one of sixteen,
With a beauty hidden from what I've seen.
Voluptuous body and a statuesque face,
Makes a mark on my soul I will never erase.
She took a risk and looked at me,
but mutual feelings were all I could see.
With all of the manners I adored
I wonder if my pain would be
Then I come to my home one day
With a smile on my face that was fully portrayed.
A step in my room, and all that I see
Is my lover and another right in front of me.
She's giving up her innocence meant for me
To another that can only make her scream and plea.
That mark in my heart turns into a sore,
So I grit my teeth and scream
"YOU LYING WHORE!!!"
The cowards flee as I scream their names,
Grabbing their clothes and heading back where they came.
But that was all of them that I can see
'cause my eyes are wet with grief and misery.
I run to the kitchen and grasp a butcher knife.
It held my name gleaming in the light.
I took it to myself, for I lost all hope.
I dragged it across and I slit my throat.
That is my story, as far as I'll tell.
Judgement is passed and now I'm in Hell.
I should've forgiven them for what they've done.
But in the end, Lucifer had won.
Mother and Father are here with me
Burning for the rest of eternity.
Now I wish I could've done something more.
But the chances are there