To Those Who Know
" Some can never go home"
The house is now empty
and the walls painted in mildew and mold
It has a musky breath of unforgiveness
The wooden floor, once a place of refuge,
is now buckled, broken with rust stained nails
Footprints are measured in silence,
a path to the angry door
Memories disturb the cobwebs and dust
covered windows
Voices float in my head, trailing off
appearing then disappearing
Trying to scratch the scar of my mind
opening the anguish from yesterdays
Where flowing blood was a badge of honor
and love was a hug from welts,
caused by a razor strap that hung
on a nail buried in the wall
A wall now silent, still holding the screams of innocence
An ugly world, where pain was cut across a small body,
from anger and hate
I still remember the tall dark figure,
with hand raised holding my wrist
slobbering over the intrument of my disillusionment
of what a parent should be
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