My Juliet - 5 : 10

"My Poet - 2

Imprisoned by these pills, my mind askew,

Clumsy or confusing my words be.

Apologies, for this letter be long,

And e'er does Death stand grinning at the door. 

Please, a note of patience, my Poet.

Prior to our heart's meeting, harsh was life,

Loneliness and fear took o'er my nights --

The darkest of the tale remains untold;

Thou knowest of my father's appetites,

But only part of this have I disclosed.

My sister and I both endured his sins,

And one last darkened chapter yet remains.

By my dozenth year, his lusts began,  

Though only so far could their urgings go,

At my refusal, Lust was dwarfed by Wrath,

Until my little sister came of age.

The wicked man will justify his deeds, 

However he can think to, as a rule.

I was just a kid -- what could I do?

My mother being privy to his ways,

Turned to drink to soothe her guilt and shame, 

And let him violate her precious girls

Each night for months, with ne'er a spoken word.

(The wicked woman carries her sins too.)

My aim be weak, so killer I am not --

The bullet grazed him, but t'was just enough

For him to know his time to fear had come. 

'Lower my gun right now, little gir--'

'Enough. I cannot listen anymore,'

I muttered, fury boiling in my eyes,

'Should you rise, or step to me, monster,

By thine own gun shall ye be put to dust.'

Walking out, I sensed his rage, like steam,

And turned to see him coming like a train;

I screamed, then heard a shot crack through the air,

And watched his lifeless body hit the ground.

Behind him, leaning weakly 'gainst the door,

Was Mother with the smoking gun. 'No more.'

- Juliet."

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- © Jackson Cambridge, 2015.