Trauma

“Say this to no one”

Were the words Father said to me

Seconds after drinking from my bowl of innocence

He was first to ever have drank of it

As I,

Laid in a corner

Dyed in crimson

With tears as autopsy

Watch life take a turn I never steered

Tell me how does it feel,

When the very thing that births

Becomes the very thing that whacks?

That yawns off,

That kills

Who tells the tale now?

And who believes when it gets told

That Father, the giver of happiness 

Has become the taker of it?