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Array
(
[sid] => 55462
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => a different fate
[time] => 2004-07-09 11:11:30
[hometext] => it's pretty long but its one of my best so i'd love some feedback please :o)
[bodytext] => A little boy sat quietly, at a table in his room Coloring a picture, of a pretty flower about to bloom He never would have contemplated, the fate he will acquire When his dad gets home, and calls him to the fire The light distorts the shapes, of his daddy’s face And puts a glare in his eye, his memory can’t erase The next few moment were tense, as they didn’t move He knew something was different, but nothing he could prove His dad seemed very angry, over what he couldn’t tell He did nothing bad today, on a test he did excel In a flash of fury, a fist came at his head He dodged that one by inches, but the next one he did dread The little boy was scared; you could see that in his eyes But in this state of mind, it was something his father could deny When he woke up in the morning, the boy saw black and blue He thought it was a one-time thing, reasons he did construe He told himself it was his fault; that he got in his father’s way But as he thinks back now, he was in his room that first day These nights didn’t stop, for a prolonged while His mother never knew, his father was so hostile She worked late into the night, till early in the morn’ Never saw the bruises, or the boy’s soul torn At the age of seventeen, he fell in love with her She knew nothing of those scary nights, for months her attention he deterred One night when they went driving, out to their special spot She noticed a large bruise, and quickly her breath caught He looked over but stopped mid-sentence, when he saw her face Confusion mixed with sorrow, sympathy more then a trace He broke down crying there, tried to turn away But she grabbed him in her arms, would not let their love decay Now he has the scars, deep down in his heart Of trust broken by a loved one, right from the very start At five years old he had grown up, in a few too many ways And until he was eighteen, twice a week he was betrayed He looks back on it now, sometimes cries himself to sleep But he is glad he got out then, unlike his father he is no creep The same girl who’s always been there, for the incredible and dark Is now his wife, his lover, on a new journey they embark She is pregnant with his baby; there are just a few months more Until he holds this piece of him, and it he will adore [comments] => 5 [counter] => 197 [topic] => 65 [informant] => anonymussme [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 4 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => toughstuff )
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