November 12, 2015


Regaining her composure, she made a break for the door,
She couldn't bare to stare into his cold dead eyes any more,
With every step she took, the room turned a deper shade of gray,
By the time she'd dried her tears, all the colour had faded away.

The day the mine closed was the day things started to change,
What little money he had left funded an alcoholic rage,
To the extent that he was barely the same man anymore,
Tobacco papers, broken glass and empty cans on the floor,

Six months of booze and beating drove to react that way,
She'd never hurt a fly before that cold wet November's day,
She hid under the stairs and waited till the time she thought best,
She took a knife and drove it through his back with all the strength she had left,

She sat and thought about the situation she was in,
She was a murderer and an orphan and her only next of kin,
Was a grandfather who live so many miles away,
At a loss for things to do she began to pray,

"Father, help me. I couldn't stand it anymore,
I am 15, and alone, and behind that wooden door,
Lies the body of the person who has made my life a misery,
I need a plan, I need a solution, set me free"

Then it came to her, she thought:

I can hide the body underneath the shed where they wont find him.
So she hid his body underneath the shed, they never found him, they're not even looking.
She took the next train out of town and moved in with her grandad, she never told him.

(He never asked.)

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