Once upon an enraged fury, while I cried, bleak and bleary,
Over many a bruise and broken bone lying on the floor,
Bruises turning black and blue for that which caused this awful hue,
Mother started crying too, too scared to take me out the door,
"It wasn't my fault," I yelled aloud but Father stuttered, screamed and swore,
Sad yet true but there's still more.
So distinct were all my pains, and how I felt those invisible chains,
Nothing could calm the deranged man's brains, so I continued to hurt some more,
Eagerly I wished for death, and realized that fathers should not do meth,
With a pain I took one breath, breath of broken lungs so sore,
I was thrown in one great heap against the wall and to the floor,
For some reason I felt no more.
Mangled body dead and broken, through Father's mouth, not a word was spoken,
He broke me---soaked me in my blood which did continued to pour,
So that now I left the ground, though I tried to turn around,
I felt some being in which I was drowned, I felt God take me to the door,
Some distant being with a beautiful sound, I felt God take me to the door,
Then I was gone, forevermore.
