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If you were alive now
 
And I could have my revenge
 
I’d confront you with the tatters of my soul
 
Make you answer my questions
 
Why?
 
Always Why
 

 
I would like to hurt you so much
 
But I could never hurt you
 
The way you hurt me
 
Can’t now anyway because you are dead
 
And not by your own hand
 
Sadly not
 

 
Although you did try once
 
When the police came to question you
 
You went into the kitchen
 
And took out the big new carving knife
 
Rammed it into your stomach
 
They said it was a confession of guilt
 

 
You never confessed
 
But I saw the knife in the kitchen sink
 
Still sticky with your blood
 
And with one black hair
 
Saw the mop and bucket in the corner
 
Blood stains washed from the kitchen floor
 

 
All this I saw
 
When I was escorted to the house
 
The house of horrors that used to be my home
 
To pick up my “stuff”
 
Packing my teddy and crying all the time
 
Telling my sister that I’m never coming home again
 

 
I nearly went mad with grief and pain
 
Maybe I did, maybe I am
 
Took all the white pills
 
That promised relief from pain
 
They nearly worked
 
But sadly I was doomed – to live
 

 
After that the social workers in the home
 
Forced me to go to therapy
 
Thank God I have hardly any memories of that
 
Just wanting to jump out of the window
 
To escape that woman, the questions, the memories
 
Crying all the time
 

 

I’m still crying now
 
20 years later
 
They call it post traumatic stress disorder
 
And you’re the lucky one
 
You are dead
 
I have to carry on
 

 
You damaged me
 
Perhaps beyond repair
 
You and the father I had before you
 
What is wrong with me?
 
Do I have please use and abuse
 
Tattooed on my forehead?
 

 
If you were alive now
 
I would spit in your face
 
How do you like being soiled?
 
I would gouge out your eyes with my fingers
 
So that you could not look at me any more
 
You would not be tempted
 

 
I would chop off you fingers
 
With the carving knife of your guilt
 
So that you can’t touch me
 
Can’t shove them inside me any more
 
I would chop off you lips
 
So you can’t force me to kiss them any more
 

 
I would rip out your tongue
 
So you can’t shove it down my throat any more
 
I would rip out your tongue
 
So you can’t whisper any more
 
Can’t threaten me and those I love
 
Can’t lick any more
 

 
I would smash you hands
 
With the hammer of my shame
 
So you can’t touch me anymore
 
Can’t grab me and grope me
 
Can’t punch me and slap me
 
Can’t hurt me any more
 

 
I would hack of your legs
 
With the axe of my rage
 
So you can’t run after me any more
 
Can’t chase me through the house
 
Can’t kick down the door
 
Can’t kick my ribs any more
 

 
 
I would hammer your back full of nails
 
With the nails of my pain
 
So I wouldn’t have to massage it any more
 
So that you couldn’t turn it on me
 
I would change your silhouette
 
So it doesn’t fill me with fear any more
 

 
I would chop off you balls
 
Slice off your penis
 
Knife your buttocks
 
And roll in your blood
 
Spew my hate on you
 
And piss and shit on you
 

 
The way you piss and shit on me
 
On my soul
 
On my life
 
You ruined me
 
I wish I could ruin you
 
But you robbed me of that too
 

 
I hate you but once I loved you
 
Never quite trusted you
 
Turns out I was right
 
You were a man of course
 
Only a man
 
Only a monster
 

 
If you were alive now
 
I would cry terrible tears
 
Of joy
 
To have the chance
 
To have my revenge
 
To destroy you too
 

 
But you are dead
 
And I am dead
 
But I still have to carry on
 
Don’t know how long
 
Don’t care any more
 
I hope the next life will be better
 

 

This poem was written a long time ago and it doesn't follow any rules, because it is pure pain and had to be let out.
A little while ago, I added some bits too it - so I might update it, or just rewrite it an leave this one alone. The new Version still doesn't follow any rules of grammar - but I don't really care ;o)

Diese "Gedicht" wurde von mir vor lange Zeit geschrieben. Es folgt auch keine Regeln, weil es reiner Schmerz ist und einfach raus musste.
Vor nicht allzu lange Zeit, habe ich was noch dazu addiert - also werde ich das hier vielleicht aktualisieren, oder vielleicht lass ich es in Ruhe und schreibe die aktuelle Version einfach nur neu.
Dieser neue Version folgt immer noch keine Grammatikregeln, aber es ist mir ziemlich egal ;o)Marina Mura, Anmerkung zum Gedicht

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