Poetry 1 - False Truth


He came when the first one left.
"I am your father now," He said.
But fathers do not bring fists upon
the young child whom they love.

"I am your father now."
And his fist violently caressed my cheek.
"I am your father now."
And his foot broke through my ribs.

She cried every night after he came.
"I love him," She woefully smiled.
But mothers do not love
those who beat them with words and callous hands.

"I love him."
And his knuckles slammed into her nose.
"I love him."
And she crashed to the ground.

In a bloody heap
she lay silent.
In a puddle of tears
I try to drown.

Fathers don't beat the ones they love.
Mothers don't love the ones who beat.

Do they?