His Death My Birth.

Just there to make sure, no other reason.

His eye lids flickered,
breathing now more laboured, rasping,
he was drowning.
It wouldn't be long now.

The line in his arm drip fed him pain relief,
his death, passing, would be mine.
I wasn't here to mourn, comfort,
no, I was here to make sure,
to see him leave,
catch his last breath,
a breath I would carry with me to my death,
a breath that would finally mean closure....

The drunkard, bully of my childhood
now cut the most pathetic of figures,
weak, helpless,
just as we were all of those years ago,
when his drink fuelled rages would colour our skin.
Back then no one meddled, interfered,
a bruised child was a bad child,
a child in their eyes deserving of parental straightening out,
the belt, a clip around the ear.
And so the abuse went on.
Now, all these years on here we were,
the bullied and the bully.
How I wished he would regain consciousness,
open his eyes,
to see me watching, witnessing,
him, as I was all those years ago, helpless,
me, smiling, gloating.

He let out a long, gurgling sigh,
then silence,
he was gone.
I stood, bent over him as if to kiss his brow,
whispered in his ear,
" Rot in hell you b*****d "
before leaving to finally start living.

Author's Note

Fictional. However many would be able to relate to this.

Reviews

[Mango_Bot]

This is a really great poem and I love the ugly dark emotions you tackle. Lines like "A bruised child was a bad child" so really powerful. My only gripe is the ending I personally thought it came across a little jarring in comparison to the rest of the poem but that's just my personal taste in poetry. Really great poem though!

[Gee]

Thank you..

[emmajoy]

It takes a sensitive and caring man to stand in other people's shoes and understand - if not feel, their long.lasting agonies. There are so many adults with that little something missing from their psyche which - in later life..even last moments, refer back to a time.. maybe only a single time.. that explains .. something.

Your daughter's such a fortunate girl.. and there are many, many children and adults who can say the same, but.. we all know someone.. somewhere. Don't we? Hatred isn't a healer but by Jove, it strenthens the resolve.

[Gee]

Hi EmmaJ, hope all is well. How any parent can abuse their child is beyond me, and a father on a daughter, God only know why or how that happens. Speaking for myself, I've loved my daughter with every single fibre of my being since she took her first breath, and this will be the case until my last is drawn.
Reading your poem to your dad I'm 100% sure he felt exactly the same , and if my daughter feels the lib e for me that you did, do and always will for him, I'll count myself the luckiest of men.
Fathers day.....every day is father's day when you are blessed with a daughter.
Sorry for waffling :))

[Gee]

lib e....love

[Gee]

Oops, how very rude, thank you

[emmajoy]

I call 'lib e' Emmatalk and am fluent!

[Paul Bell]

Ask a hundred people about this. Probably 60% would be sympathetic to his dying.
35% would give that long-winded speech about how he didn't know any better.
The other 5% would probably have beat the crap out of him in later years.

[Gee]

I think I might well be amongst the 5%.
Cheers Paul

[Paul Bell]

Yes, I think so too.

[Coyote Poetry]

A wild ending to this tale. Watching your bully die. A interesting place to be. Thank you dear friend. You left me with something to think about.
Coyote

[Gee]

Again thank you Coyote

[Coyote Poetry]

You are welcome my friend.

[KWP]

You write a good fiction. Had me thinking if it was true the whole way through. Good descriptions - I felt him there in that fetid hospital - just waiting for a new day to dawn. Nice one X

[Gee]

Thank you kindly..

[Julie McCarthy (juliesp..]

I feel for your childhood, lost in abuse, I am so terribly sorry that it happened to you and many more like yourself.
I was so lucky to have a non abusive parents.
Ive had to read your poem a few times, i like its raw honesty, no holding back in how you really feel, i like the ending so honest of how you felt the relief, I am so sad and almost ashamed that I did not suffer like you and so many across the planet then and happening right now.
I do believe in God and always wonder why he does let these things happen and other tragedies that bestow this world of ours
I hope you can move fwd and live an abundant happy life with your family and friends and again i aplaud you for this honest raw poem. xxxx

[Gee]

Hi Julie. Happily this is not fact so have added an author's note.
You have a good and kind heart and your confusion at to why God does nowt is understandable. Perhaps this is one of the reasons I am a non believer.
Thank you for taking the time to leave such a heartfelt review

[Julie McCarthy (juliespenhere)]

Oh ok yes just read the note thanks you are welcome

[alanwgraham]

Yes - freedom at last, but at what cost. Your brilliant poem has a personal connection for someone close. There is a kind of release but for many there is still a long dark shadow cast. I have written about this theme in my story 'The inquisitor'. It ia very brave of you to share this.
All the best.
Alan

[Gee]

Hi Alan, luckily I never personally suffered but many do as you know ( I have since added an author's note)
Thank you for reviewing it is much appreciated.
Cheers

[barleygirl]

This is brilliantly written becuz of the intensity you inject into every line. It's not a ranting intensity, but a quietly-stated one, which makes it feel even more menacing. As you might know, my dad was very abusive in all the worst ways, for my whole childhood, so I could step into the shoes of your narrator with ease. I never felt vengeance upon my dad becuz he died such a horrible death (similar to your poem details) -- he got his & that's when I got mine. You have nailed this with every bit of possible accuracy in how it feels (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

[Gee]

Thanks Margie. It's hard to believe any parent would abuse their kid, but a father on his daughter.....I would willingly, gladly give my life to keep my daughter safe and have never raised a finger or voice to her.
I'm so sorry for your childhood and hope this didn't bring back to many bad memories.
Thank you for still taking the time to both read and comment.
YOU'RE A SHINING STAR

[barleygirl]

It doesn't bother me to read or write about it. I am honored to see such writing that remembers all the broken people in this world!

[Gee]

Thank you, take care

[Relic]

In the USA, over 700,000 children suffer abuse and neglect each year. Four-fifths by parents. Your ending is appropriate for the story. The rage kids go through over so many years does not go away easily. I'm sure adults that went through the same thing would applaud your ending.

[Gee]

Hi Relic. Scarred for life you’d imagine with no escape in the dark wee hours. Cheers

[Lorry]

Sadly an all true tale for too many ex kids to be weighed down with through their lives. Although I guess that many never got to be kids, with the picture that we paint of childhood anyway.
Taking out their own frustrations on others, and their choice of victim says it all really, the most defenceless among us. Bullies are the impotent with delusions of power. They all go the way they came, alone and frightened.
Powerful words Gee, raw as the wounds that will never heal.

[Gee]

Although both my dad and step dad were complete wankers we were never sexually abused, although some of my siblings did cop the odd slap.
My dad drowned, karma, and my step dad ended up dying alone and not being found for a week or so after, good enough for him too.
I actually enjoyed my childhood as there was a pack of one parent family, feral kids that ran wild together.
Thanks for reading and commenting Lorry, always appreciated.

[Lorry]

Karma wins every time. Which will probably mean a spider will stamp me to death, but I try not to think about that.