Poem #65: Alone
#66 of Poetry
This poem was inspired by a good friend of mine who used to cut herself. When you're in pain, you feel like you're all alone in the world.
Alone
Two boys sit alone in the dark:
One has love and the other hate.
Two friends from birth they became,
Only to have the world break them apart.
The boy with love
Remembers days when his father
Walked in the doorway smelling
Of urine, alcohol, and bile;
When his father's hands
Clenched into fists and beat
Against his son's skin.
He remembers all the bruises
Hidden beneath black cloth;
Eyes cast down in shame
Wishing he could escape the pain.
He remembers days when he sought guidance;
Walked into doorways where others
Were waiting there smiling at him.
They talked about the evils
To close the wounds inside.
The boy with hate
Can't stand going home each day
To see his mother with a needle
In her arm. Her arms
Are red from scratching at
Imaginary things, and her hair
Is falling out in clumps.
He can't bear the sight
Of her slow, agonizing death,
So he takes the knife
And slices with cool steel
Across his skin. Rivulets of
Blood drip down his arm,
Releasing his agony inside.
The boy with love
Trembles beneath scars from memory.
The boy with hate
Makes scars on his arm today.
These two boys are forced to become men,
Forced to deal with their own pain;
But they both need relief,
And so find each other.
Each sits in pain and misery:
Two men sit alone, in the dark, together.
~bhscorch
"Alone" by bhscorch is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.