
If it was trendy, he followed it
If it was a new pill, he swallowed it
But a man can only try again
So many times ‘til he just gives in

If it was trendy, he followed it
If it was a new pill, he swallowed it
But a man can only try again
So many times ‘til he just gives in

No one in town ever really talked much about her. I suppose that hers was the same story that was being told all over America. Her mother was a native of Korea and her father was just another broken ex-marine from the USA and neither one had the courage to give her the love she desperately needed. So she became another neglected trophy from an invaded country. Just gathering dust in the corner of Podunkville with the rest of the souvenirs of war. Lust and alcohol brought her into the world. Heroine and a razor blade relieved her of it.
“There’s absolutely nothing good that can go on after midnight, there’s no movies, no restaurants, no school dances. Only one thing happens and you don’t want any part of it if you want a normal life.”
If anyone knows about not having a normal life, it sure as hell is going to be me. My piece of shit father was a man of few words and never the right ones. I never once in my life heard an “I love you”, gotten a hug or even a smile from the rotten bastard. He preferred to let his belt do his talking for him.
The woman that I called mother just hid away in the bedroom, sniveling like a child herself, with never a word or lifting a hand to try to stop him. One day, in a drug induced moment of courage, she pointed the sleek, cold steel of my dad’s .45 at the wrinkle just above her nose and pulled the trigger. As far as I was concerned, it was just another coward’s move from a weak minded piece of shit. The powder and lead might have driven away her pain but a lot of good it did for me.
So I fled into the night and let the darkness seduce me. Where I could feel the coolness of the shadows against my naked skin dance with the heat from whoever was willing to pay for my passion.
My dear daughter Leanna, you were born on my seventeenth birthday. That day, I vowed to make a better life for you, my precious baby girl. I was going to give you all the things I had never gotten from life; a home, love, compassion, support and honesty.
I just forgot that all those things came with a price. That all the money in the world couldn’t give you those things, only time shared with each other can do that.
Now, all I can do is bring flowers to your grave.
“I’m so sorry that I wasn’t there for you while you were being seduced by the night.”
Um Espaço de Reflexão e Evolução Através da Linguagem
Poetry, Stories, and Other Musings With Spilt Ink
If your dreams do not scare you, they’re not big enough – Ellen Johnson Sirleaf
Sharing my personal and professional life from the Philippines
Pen to paper
Daydreaming and then, maybe, writing a poem about it. And that's my life.
An Independent Nondiscriminatory Platform With No Religious, Political, Financial, or Social Affiliations - FOUNDED 2014
embrace the magic
Passion for writing ignites my soul's momentum
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Aspiring Poet & Shy Girl Tired of being Quiet
Create Your Own Happiness
Traveling Poet Philosopher & Occasional Wiseacre
Rhymes and Reasons for Every Season
Life is all about being curious, asking questions, and discovering your passion. And it can be fun!
...just a voice from the eastern Himalayan summits...
Nothing is immortal
Educación, reflexiones y cultura general.
Life is a patchwork of moments — laughter, solitude, everyday joys, and quiet aches. Through scribbled stories, I explore travels both far and inward, from sunrise over unfamiliar streets to the comfort of home. This is life as I see it, captured in ink and memory. Stick around; let's wander together.
Almost Meaningful