[aVorbiss]: 642.Poetry.The Nightmare
The day it was put into my head,
Long after she was dead.
My father said it was a nightmare.
One that left him in despair.
The night of her ending so brutal
And I being so young, I cannot fathom the Funeral.
I never knew my mother,
Though I would have loved her.
The doctors say it happens,
As sporadic as twigs snapping.
Now that I'm older,
My father's grown colder
And since then I've become bolder
To seek out the truth,
behind the murder of my mother, Ruth.
And now, on his final bed,
He confesses the words he'd never have said,
"It was a nightmare, son,
And I awoke to what I had done."