poetry|trauma|prompt
Death of the Father
Radical Acceptance Returns
Perceptually different are the varying thoughts of how it used to be. One-sided is the stories tale — giving a young lad everything they needed, being there for every turn as the car rolled off the highway.
A flip of the coin — tales are telling of another side. Absent was the one leaving a child alone with a flame and combustibles — swallowed temperament as volatile as the burning winds.
A flip of the coin — leaving knives as sharp as a sword — severing thumbs and tearing into the flesh of past chapters of broken wings. Then to comfort the wounded soul with fiery winds of burning words cutting through to silenced dreams — left alone was the young one, mastering the elements of Shangri-la.
Recounting the time — entering the skeleton-filled closet of forbidden truths — mastering the art of fabricated twisted stories. One after the other — lie to cover up the one before — just as the one taught. And it made him fucking proud.
Vomiting regurgitated thought — sharing to this page — as guilt and fear bring us back to broken arms. Not shocked — opening the Webster defining words — there at the center of the narcissism was a picture of the one.