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deepundergroundpoetry.com
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.
Published 22nd Mar 2015
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22nd Mar 2015 3:38pm
there's nothing quite like parents putting the fear of god into their children......except putting the fear of the devil instead.
22nd Mar 2015 4:25pm
That's unfortunately how I was raised. I ended up being so afraid of Hell that I just accepted that I'd be going there, haha :)
22nd Mar 2015 11:37pm
Had I read this a few months ago, I would have surely felt a twinge in my chest for your sake... As it is, you have my condolences. What a horrible way to be raised, and what a wretched thing to tell a child.
23rd Mar 2015 11:11am
Wow. This is so heartbreakingly tragic, yet so beautifully written. The Dante reference was well-done. I loved this particular line, "Shades clambered up the walls and darted from room to room, never my own, but just in feral spite of me." I'm so sorry for what you had to go through. My mom was disciplined with the fear of strange flesh-consuming diseases, and today she's an extreme hypochondriac. Me, I was just raised on good old-fashioned guilt. But gorgeously penned piece...
