These poisoned gifts

Not sure what I was going for here. I started something, inspired by a song, then painted the bathroom so lost my train of thought…

In the dark stripped bare and cold

Drowning in things handed down

These rags, the curses, bloodied lips

Sins of the father, chains that bind

And shadows in the doorway watch.

Each blow, each bruise and words that cut

far deeper into sun bleached bone

than sharpened blade could ever do.

Dark lullaby and icy kiss goodnight

The hooded shame chokes, burns and blinds

But from outside wide smiles deceive

And shackled, shuffle silent by

Author: Michael

Husband, dad,programmer, comic collector and proud Yorkshireman. I have no idea why im here or why im writing but i rather enjoy it. no great fan of punctuation;

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