Sunday, 9 January 2011
Mad Butcher (Revised)
With tiny hands you wield your errant blade
Like an expert butcher cleaving chunks from my life,
Cutting balloon strings in the world I've made,
Replacing hope and fortune with a cold and easy strife.
You crow. I call you liar and I call you whore.
You're absurd and I wish I could comprehend this
Madness and lunacy that you work for.
What agent of chaos would birth this venomous
Insect. What ridiculous twist of unlikely chance,
Brought this event, moment, morose to my own door,
On the eve of my great and grand deliverance
From all the agony I felt before?
Can't you see it shows? The lie shows in you
Because you don't know how this pain sits in a heart.
How it purrs and bleeds, rots, festers and brews.
How it screams out and leaves such an blatant scar,
Such a wound that the whole world can see,
And acknowledge it, but keep living on,
Accepting the false smile for all that it is,
Just a cover. A nice, comfy, warm cocoon.
An obvious white lie to trick the kids,
But never black, never me, never this,
Never would I or could or ever will,
'Cause I'm so much better than the man who made this hurt,
And even more so than you who would raise it still.
Posted on One Stop Poetry for One Shot Wednesday