Death In The Family
I'm walking down the hallway,
with paintings hanging low,
their sizes are enormous,
for detail they do show.
the names of famous artists,
will not linger here,
for these are the paintings,
of my simple fear.
young lady with a motive,
and will to use the gun,
except upon herself,
pulls the trigger and she's done.
her head upon a towel,
and teeth gritted tight,
eyes are held shut,
face a bit too white.
I turn before the scene,
embeds itself to me,
I walk on to another,
painting just to see.
a lonely man is present,
his baseball cap residing,
although I feel he's good at heart,
I sense his anger hiding,
no mirrors are around him,
and now he cries removed,
from the arms of love,
into his hell consumed.
he fashions a cord,
into a stable tangle,
and hops upon a high stool,
and drops into a strangle,
his feet are left unmoving,
his arms lay at his sides,
yet his eyes are wide open,
as his body dies.
I hurryingly shift,
forward with my glance,
I take a moment into thought,
before my feet advance.
I think I'm understanding,
just why I've been sent here.
I'm piecing all the parts together,
these are things I fear.
I'm scared to look on to the next,
although this never ends,
I guess I need to keep on pushing,
into the fierce extends.
I come upon the painting,
this one looks bright in hue,
until I've noticed something odd,
this person I not knew.
a random dirty face,
stands and stares me down,
all seeming innocent,
until he mounts a frown.
he turns away from me,
and looks upon a home,
and walks up to the window,
denied his fingers roam.
finally he finds one,
and lets himself on in,
makes his way into the bedroom,
and practices his sin.
a lady is about him,
and fighting off his will,
her efforts are just wasting time,
his mind is set to kill.
a sharpened knife is wielded,
and into chest is cast,
strokes are far too strong to fight,
movement far too fast.
her screaming is a nightmare,
all on it's own,
yet I see the worst of it,
her body left alone.
a mangled little beauty,
and one I felt so dear,
a mother sister and a child,
lays a mess right here.
my legs are growing heavy,
yet I still proceed,
hoping that that last one,
is the last I see.
Alas I come upon another,
painting oh so low,
and stand perplexing,
waiting for the show.
another man I recognize,
he shows a hungry face,
I have come to realize,
he put me in this place.
I question all my findings,
and why they hold such fears,
why I've been ignored,
upon the passing years.
instead of giving answers,
he laughs right in my face,
he tells me that I'm all alone,
and how I've been replaced.
my sister took the bullet,
my brother's in the noose,
my mother was murdered,
now I take up the caboose.
he says it's in my blood,
that I was meant to die,
and even though he is my father,
I still hug him good-bye.