A Self Full-Killing Prophecy

My Da as a boy was brutally smacked

So I honestly forgive the compassion he lacked

And the derision, the neglect, the glaring contempt

And the rage he outpoured for rooms left unkempt

“’That boy’ is a useless, two-left-footed disaster…”

I learned from my Master, but beloved cruel bastard

That I was just shit, and inherently defective

And would never suffice, or be the least bit effective

Subservient, inferior, scum of the Earth

Did he wish that I’d just died at my birth?

Ironically though, furious wrath was bestowed

If I dared show anger, so I learned to implode

By repressing emotion, any sadness and ire

Just layer after layer of black coal on black fire

My Ma, the poor wain, molested and battered

And would never recover or discover she mattered

My heart bleeds for her death and bleeds for her life

She knew nothing but torment and unbearable strife

Three children, therefore, were collateral damage

To dysfunctional parents in a dysfunctional marriage

I must now find somehow, or some way,

To end this unending, spiral of shame

My soul at the core, is scorched, and I find

I’m as fucked-up as them, we’re just three of a kind

I’m addicted, non-existing, & pain rains torrential,

My sole will to live — my children’s potential.

Like one single finger, on a ledge barely gripping

Their pain’s far too painful for me to be slipping

Into that sleep that my darling Mum summoned

Hardwired to hide, instinctively run, and

Avoid consequences, any responsibilities

Of this awful affliction that some call addiction

On those all around that I profess to adore

And the self detestation that I daily ignore

I need a release free from this unrelenting crave

Or this hole that I’m now digging will end up my grave.