Memories of a Father's Daughter (age 8)

Daddy's home! Can you smell the fear?
But I could be wrong, maybe I smell the beer??
Or vodka and seven with a twist of lime,
That's his alternate cocktail, most of the time.
It's one or the other on that you can bet,
He'll quench that thirst, his "whistle" he'll wet.
He's had his last drink, kissed his bitches goodnight,
"High fived" all his buddies, now it's home for a fight.
He found his way home, it's a quarter till five.
I've many times wondered, how he made it alive.
Pissed at himself, a drunk and angry man.
Making her bleed is the "Master's" plan.
He's bringing the hurt, with hell close behind,
He's home to do damage, her pain's on his mind.
He's burning with guilt, so he drinks and gets high,
He can't find release, 'till he makes her cry. 
She hides in their room, so frightened and alone,
Her heart beat's in her throat, as it slowly turns to stone.
He stands there before her, his fist's in a ball,
This time he could kill her, he's not letting up at all.
I roll off my bed and I go down on my knees,
Jesus give me the strength, to save my mama, please!
My mom's hurting so bad that she can't hardly stand,
I sneek up behind him, a pop bottle in hand,
I'm shocked at the sight, he's straddled her chest!
His fists clasped in one, his rage, it won't rest!
I take a deep breath and swing with all my might,
No more hurting my mom, I'm ending this fight.
Shit! I knocked him out cold, my mom rolls him aside,
Picks me up in her arms, her eyes filled with such pride.
She softly speaks to me, her voice strained from her screams,
"No more nightmares my child, from now on, just sweet dreams." 
 Written by: ficosdarkness
 On: October 10,2010