Poetry Camp (February)
Fox-Trot-9

Day 9: I Fear . . .

I fear him when he gets this angry at her.
I fear what he may do if I talk back,
Or just ignore his screams of suicide.
I fear that we may yet be torn asunder
After another outburst from that foul
Ungodly realm of hate that stirs his mind.
I fear that he may murder her sometimes,
Or murder me for all my apathy.
I fear that God relinquished all his demons
To spite and curse this family of ours.
I fear that when we go to church to pray
That He makes an exception to our prayers—
For otherwise, why is my father like this?
He bottles up emotions and explodes
On Mom and sometimes me for such small things.
But most of all, when everything goes crazy,
Filling this house with screams of bitter hate,
I fear this solitude of misery
That burns away my reservoir of hope
And smothers out my soul in deep despair.

(To be continued . . .)

A/N: Just venting out the emotions of a turbulent morning when shit hit the fan in the family department.