| » Poem: True Story, My Story |
True Story, My Story
written by DarkAngelBlood01:47 AM 9/2/04It was late at night,
Or early in the morning.
There wasn't any light,
But it wasn't storming.
A car pulled up,
Old Sheeba barked.
The time of day was past dusk,
The unconscious scared heart.
He stumbled in drunk and stoned,
He was looking for a lighter.
A light for his smoke,
The coward fighter.
I was sleeping in my crib,
My mother sleeping in her bed.
He found on the floor my bib,
She didn't know that night we'd almost end up dead.
He sauntered to the kitchen,
And found seven knives.
This poem is non-fiction,
That night we almost lost our lives.
My father tripped around in the dark,
And found me in my room.
A man with no heart,
Was about to be doomed.
In one hand were the seven tools,
In me the other.
My father was a fool,
This awakened my mother.
She was alarmed by the sight her eyes seen,
Her husband on a high with her baby.
She got up and ran, not forgetting me,
She fetched a 10lb. ashtray and hurled it at the figure to be.
She grabbed clean and dirty clothes,
Most of them mine.
She worried little about her woes,
Now trying to forget all that she needed to leave behind.
I hid away my dreams,
No time for that.
When we were being forced to leave,
A time we can't go back.
Heavy on drugs,
His mind so gone.
He just shrugged,
Didn't care he was away for so long.
I was only three,
So young with a future already torn.
We were being forced into the streets,
Our minds were a little worn.
First thing's first,
Find a new a place to live.
This wasn't the worst,
Cause only a few people could give.
My aunt took us in,
It's the best she could do.
She helped us get away from him,
So we could start anew. |
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This Poem has been viewed 453 times
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| » Comments / Feedback | by brokendolly (10-10-2004 - 07:31 PM)
| omg is that true?...thats awful, wkd poem!! xxx |
by swee (1-4-2005 - 08:41 PM)
| o my gosh, that man dosnt deaerve to breath. |
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