My bedroom, chipboard wall paper on the walls
I lay as still as I can, I’m almost not there
Nightshirt up around my chin
I can feel him sitting beside me
I keep my eyes closed, trying to evaporate into the night
His hands are down ‘there’
I can feel the sting and the burning
I don’t like the pain
If I just stay still it’ll all go away
Sure enough it does, the memory fades
I can see a small girl laying in my bed
She’s trying to be still
He is beside her, making her burn
Thank God it’s not me, I was not there.
What did you think
Comments
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Thanks Bob, not all Fathers are bad, neither are all men, i struggle to know which ones are which at times!
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Damn
As a father of three daughters when I read poems such as thisit just infuriates me. How could any man do such a thing. I am moved to shame for being a man. Castrate the bastards.
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