Spare the Rod… Please?
This poem was a difficult write. Not only with the words chosen but my dark muse appeared. This is a dark poem of child abuse, but a subject that always needs attention. I hope I did it justice on a few levels.
Submitted to The Sunday Whirl,
Torn curtains can hold twisted memories
of acts remembered, pain forgotten not.
The reprehensible atrocities
behind closed doors, leave rendered spots.
Sore red lines cast external bruising gild
on flesh so pure, its’ contrast scattered deep.
One blink can whirl wet eyes from sad tears filled,
before the young will climb on clouds to sleep.
Domestic stains remain as clocks tick time;
contort the scan of life’s new marvel age.
Bad memories will haunt this blind crime
thus, leaves a spirit blistering enraged.
TheMsLvh © 2011
image source: Staale N
California Ink In Motion by TheMsLvh is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License