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Image for the poem No Son Of God

No Son Of God


Mommy said God was watching, and I
believed her. Little boys that
lie make Satan show his gnarled
teeth, and we don't want that, now
do we?
I was so malleable, so
trusting, and a transient in Hell every
night for ten years. My parents would
send me to bed knowing full well I
was Dante, too young for love but
nevertheless bound by my own nine
circles.

That house had a heart, behind the
door in the cellar. There is nothing
beautiful about those words. Sleep took
me slowly, agonizingly, waiting until the
heat of being cloaked under layers of
bed sheets dried my tongue so much
so that I couldn't speak to God even
if I had wanted to. Shades clambered up the
walls and darted from room to room, never
my own, but just in feral spite of me. Night-
mares were of being pierced, skinned, teeth
pulled from my bleeding lips, limbs
ripped, gutted, things a child would never
dream of, or so the saying goes. If God was
watching, then I must not have been a
fitting image of him.



I woke up to the cross above my
bedroom door hanging upside
down.
Written by GraveyardBard (Mr. Addams)
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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