Collide

Two hearts shaking under cold pale skin Two minds racing into collisions So traumatic that all they can breathe out is “Why” seems to be all they can say, to express The rest of them are dead Their bodies and faces only display red trenches Where acidic tears eroded With bagged clouds under their weary eyes Where sleep stopped its nightly visits Their shaky, pale hands And consciousness craving tranquility They come closer Holding eachother’s empty, broken coffins of bodies And whisper to eachother “Why” Then a series of new questions arrive and surface Creating more wreckage in the atmosphere of destruction The poisonous gas of chaos “Where did we go wrong? Where did we make the wrong turn to insanity with our son? Where did we begin to not see the obstacles? How did we let him collide in the troubles of raping a girl?” Like gas molecules The thoughts race around behind their eyes And collide with eachother Gradually building up the pressure There’s no room in their boxes of hearts to hold this in No room in their bombs of consciousness to compress this in So they explode Or compact in on themselves Always blaming themselves They left their hearts on shelves to let them dry there But the bleeding never stops The hurting never stops Like a deer in broken headlights They never even had a chance to see it coming Never even saw their son on the road to failure On the road to disapprovement where nothing but dead ends appear His mother, he’s nailed her down Like sins to Christ The thorns of pain from her son kills her But she’s not Christ So she may never rise to her normal state His father doesn’t know how to accept his new name His new title of “The Father of a Rapist” Fingers will point Nails will stab He’ll be criticized and victimized Accused of bad parenting He thinks he’s a failure as much as his son And knows there’s nowhere to run No hiding from the sun So now all he repeats is “Where’s the gun? Where’s the gun?” Because he knows he’ll need it. Everywhere’s a danger to him and his family He looks at his reflection and is reminded of what he’s bred What he’s helped raise What he’s helped released His son, The Rapist The Guilty, The Unjusticed Unrightous…Rapist They don’t know if they can go on If they’ll make it back to the home in their hearts Like darts, the results kill them She’s the barrel, he’s the holster And their creation was the trigger Shooting bullets of pain Killing all in its path Nothing remains the same The Game of Life ended and reality came with its grand fucking entrance And their lives crashed Rumbling to explosions Stressed. Cracked glass And circus mirrors that are mere images of disaster. In just a year, Their lives collided... into ashes