Cold As Tainted Stone
Terror...terror from a loud crash, a loud crash through the door
the door no one thought would creak open tonight
Fueled by rage, by drugs, by frustration
mixed in with repetitive loneliness to where it's gotten sickening
And there, laying helpless
and there, laying peacefully; peacefully in slumber
the beautiful seed, the precious cargo
the easiest prey of the desperate father bearing a twisted mind
deprived of desire complete with a blurry conscious
unsure of what's right and wrong
The blasphemy sounding off the migraine in his head
is his former self faintly shouting, screaming
'Don't do it! ! ! ! What are you thinking?
This, your precious eight year old daughter, is your miracle
Did you quickly forget half your life was spent
having dinner with countless stars
craving a daughter so fully alive
Are you willing to put all of it on the line
to defile, deflower, destroy her forever
Don't go through with it please...please...'
but the simple please are brushed away like buzzing flies
The thrill of substance abuse wins once again
Terror...the stench of fear
the stench of innocence forsaken repugnant
overpowered, struggling to fight and keep the purity intact
Purity, the symbolism of an untouched soul, pure white
now cold as stone; confused, tainted, soiled
smelling of torture, smoke, alcohol; curled up in a small ball
wrapped in bloody blankets, sobbing uncontrollably
softly, gently, fiercely wondering
'Why...why...how could this happen...happen to me...'
Copyright © Andrus Cassian | Year Posted 2016
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