(no subject)
this may not be as much of a pem as a vent session, but it will be eventually.
spring flowers bring to life
the cold marble that house the
souls no longer living
on this earth.
the sun is shining
as the ungodly procession makes its way
to what is the likes of a flower bed
a bed of flowers is not suitable for a boy
he shoudl be in the grass
where he never got to
sit or
lay
or read or
play.
because the one who was supposed to love him chose 25,000
pieces of silver over the
life of a child. fuck, who says that money cannot but you happiness, it can for some people, as she goes to hawaii and i sit at homw mourning the loss of a brother who i never knew but always loved. how dare she take tha away from me, away from him.he should be here right now, taking and laughing and in the third grade and playing with bugs and frogs not living among them. my god she fucking makes me fucking sick. it wasn't enough to hurt me and abuse me she had to go and fucking kill her only child. i ahev to think tat she did it on purpose. she killed a piece of me that day, i hope she got what she fucking wanted, because now every fucking time i go past his grave i cry and tell him mommy would have loved him, making me just as much of a liar as she was .
i wasn't even allowed to tell my grandmother. nobody else knew. she even banished the priest who performed the goddamn ceremony, sent him to ireland to live under a fucking alias. and all this because she loved her kids? i don;t fucking think so.
and what does she tell me as i cry at theinterrment of my baby brother? what the fuck does she have the nerve to tell me?
"stop crying, you never would have wanted another brother."fuck you, mom.
fuck you.
and his name is Ben.
that was intended to be a poem, and i got a little carried away...sorry. it just pisses me off. people like that deserve to die.
not people like ben.
"and the seasons,they go round and round,
and the painted ponies go up and down.
we're captive on the carousel of time.
we can't return,er can only look
behind from where we came
and go round and round and round
in the circle game."
in remembrance of benjamin michael.
spring flowers bring to life
the cold marble that house the
souls no longer living
on this earth.
the sun is shining
as the ungodly procession makes its way
to what is the likes of a flower bed
a bed of flowers is not suitable for a boy
he shoudl be in the grass
where he never got to
sit or
lay
or read or
play.
because the one who was supposed to love him chose 25,000
pieces of silver over the
life of a child. fuck, who says that money cannot but you happiness, it can for some people, as she goes to hawaii and i sit at homw mourning the loss of a brother who i never knew but always loved. how dare she take tha away from me, away from him.he should be here right now, taking and laughing and in the third grade and playing with bugs and frogs not living among them. my god she fucking makes me fucking sick. it wasn't enough to hurt me and abuse me she had to go and fucking kill her only child. i ahev to think tat she did it on purpose. she killed a piece of me that day, i hope she got what she fucking wanted, because now every fucking time i go past his grave i cry and tell him mommy would have loved him, making me just as much of a liar as she was .
i wasn't even allowed to tell my grandmother. nobody else knew. she even banished the priest who performed the goddamn ceremony, sent him to ireland to live under a fucking alias. and all this because she loved her kids? i don;t fucking think so.
and what does she tell me as i cry at theinterrment of my baby brother? what the fuck does she have the nerve to tell me?
"stop crying, you never would have wanted another brother."fuck you, mom.
fuck you.
and his name is Ben.
that was intended to be a poem, and i got a little carried away...sorry. it just pisses me off. people like that deserve to die.
not people like ben.
"and the seasons,they go round and round,
and the painted ponies go up and down.
we're captive on the carousel of time.
we can't return,er can only look
behind from where we came
and go round and round and round
in the circle game."
in remembrance of benjamin michael.