A Father's lamentations
Weeping will not do you any good
You stupid son of a bitch
You have done everything against God
teaching, Faggot, you backdoor loving bastard
If you have not been born
If your mother had an abortion
To scrap you out of her womb
No, to erase you obilerate you
You would not be here
In this hospital with that tube in your face
Do you know, I looked for you every where
In the back lane of this sweltering city
Looking into descrepit houses
Into garbage dumps, praying that I
would see you there, find you
even in rags and bring you home
I prayed in churches in parks
In open spaces that I might find you
and bring you home
Even if you did not want us
You left, you little whore-man
without telling your mother
that you left with another man
a faggot he was and so are you
You never said anything to us at all
You just left, bringing us sorrow
and grief before the eventual
would that we grieve for your death
clean death, o dear God, clean
But this? This I cannot stand
How did you become this?
You were my son, so beloved of mine
I remember the first few toys I bought
Darth Vader, Godzilla, robotman
You loved them all then
although you spent your mother's
lipstick on them
The bicycle, remember it?
You painted it with pink hearts
Remember the swing under the linden tree
where I pushed you and you sang
that song about the banana man?
Oh my son, my son what changed you?
Can I even get to understand
why you changed? Even your name?
From Billy to Bella, isn't that insane?
And here you lie, eyebrows plucked
like a thanksgiving turkey...
I cannot understand why..why?
Your face pale with oozing pustules
Your lips cracked, your eyes sunken
Your voice is gone, your hands skeletal
You breath rattles you stink of death
Oh my son my son, I will wait with you
if only I could fight the reaper with my fists
for you my son...
But no, I can't , so I bid you good rest
drink this concoction now, it will make you sleep
Nightshade will bring eternal night to you
Good night My son.
Written by Grace
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