When I was a little girl,
I used to play in my house,
My toys were my world,
But I was as quiet as a mouse,
Nobody quite knew,
They thought I was insane,
People saw me in the playground,
Only to complain,
They would walk away from me,
Scared looks on their face,
They made that little girl think,
She was just a disgrace,
I watched the news one night,
Which I even thought was lame,
A murderer on the loose,
But a man with the same surname,
A picture of my dad,
Came up on the screen,
I had a puzzled look on my face,
What did that mean?,
When I was a little girl,
I was stuck in my room,
I was forced into a different world,
To cope and resume,
Nobody quite knew,
The situation I was in,
I went to the playground with my father,
Only for hell to begin,
People would run away,
Terrified for their life,
I guess they saw the news,
Or saw my father had a knife,
I went to talk to my mother,
Sitting on the bed,
But I saw a pool of blood,
Coming from her head,
I ran around the room,
Looking for her phone,
But it had disappeared,
And I was all alone,
I heard loud banging,
Knowing my dad came back,
Most likely drunk,
Coming into my room as I prepared for an attack,
He looked into my eyes,
And all I heard was a thump,
As he fell to the floor,
I ran towards him with a jump,
Blood came from his mouth,
Dripping onto the floor,
He whispered out his apology,
And shouted with a roar,
He was my father,
And I loved him very much,
I knew he was a monster,
But I still held onto his touch,
As he died in my arms,
I realised one thing,
My mam and dad were dead,
And I had lost everything...
YOU ARE READING
Blood On My Hands
PoesíaPoems and the odd stories✍ ----- FYI- .)TW negative / sad subjects .) large range of subjects .) I may change or widen the aspects of each .)I'll post whenever in whatever quantity... maybe ill try and sort out my schedule . Thank you and I hope yo...
