Innocent Until Proven
Does the guilt not consume you?
Mine has corroded war-torn armour,
left me shell-shocked in the wake,
shots fired from five years old,
those early memories become a plague,
a defining moment, poignant in post,
sleepless nights are haunted
by the silliest missteps,
the face of the disappointed,
too young to mask emotion,
too tired to realise her daughter
wonders if she even remembers.
Yet here you are,
dancing in a hall of illusion,
in a state of lockdown, protecting yourself,
dissolving the distasteful
before it can penetrate your conscious,
memories blurred,
the substance of the hour,
the tapes skip from hopeful beginnings,
to my resigned end,
where forgiveness was once all-powerful.
I cannot bare it,
this dizzy world in which you live,
the perfection you crave
stitched into the convenient blankness
of the past we share;
I was not lucky enough,
the bottle cannot save a child,
your eutopia became my hell,
and let all who lift the curtain be damned,
a sinners truth upon a believers lie,
our farewell will become a tale told twice,
once from puzzle pieces,
twice from a child’s eyes,
for I’ll remember your forgotten words,
‘I wish you’d died.’
Thank you for reading.
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