Saying sorry to ya,
is like speaking thru the anesthesia.
I should have been there,
I should of said something instead of bere.
Your parents are not your fault,
my silence to violence leading to the fall.
my sin, my selfish need,
I wish there were the correct amount of words to express to you my guilt. The only thing I can do is explain. But, its not enough. Had I not been twelve, and been mentally more mature to travesty, maybe I could have pulled you down. Had I not been such a wimp, maybe I could have ran that three miles instead of walking. Maybe then I could have been there to talk you down. If I weren’t such a coward, I would have told my equally abusive parents what was happening. Maybe then you would want to come down. As I sit, crying through the keyboard, I only hope that you feel the digital droplets.
Terrible to say, I’m now strong enough. I’m thirty-five now. Your face, circling my thoughts at the same speed I found you. Slower than the police lights as the shadow of the officers pull me away. If only I could be aware to count how many it took. I call it the demon scream, but, I can’t hear it. The volume of my own, overpowering the very sirens that compete to silence me. I don’t know how my face looked. However, I caught a glimpse of the neighbors looking at me. Shielding their child’s eyes, cowering mothers, fathers dropping to their knees. They said i cried so hard, blood fell, with my soul.
From that day, I fought everything. I fought, trained, fought some more, trained and fought again. I don’t know what I was preparing for. I still get bloody tears falling onto the forty-five pound weights in my hands. These tears burn. So much they have permanently left trail marks down my face. I would rather a scar, crossing brow to chin through an eye.
I miss you. I miss our childhood. I miss what could have been. I’ll die with this rage in me. Rage so incredible, even lucifer fears judgment day. I recieved flowers from him yesterday. The devil begs me to remove myself from your grave. Tells me he will deliver you to the pearly gates himself. He cowars and kneels before me after eye contact is made. I hope I honor you. I hope that my power reaches you. I wish you can see satan and his power with all his evil, kneel before someone fighting for you so fiercely.
I miss you. I miss the long blonde hair. I miss your face. We laid together. You told me not to leave you. I’m old now, but, I still keep you. I still keep this power, this rage. The white chariot to hell. All the dead bodies, no longer oppose you.
I love you. Sleep well my friend. My love. I’m coming soon.