Analysis of Violent Wings

Memories, they are such a funny thing,
popping in and out of the mind's cruel ways,
some leave nothing but wild insanity
that cool emotions can not ever breach,
others take charge and pour words from the pen.

Inspiration hits me now with brute force,
from seeing other's penned situations,
I shall begin then, coldly stare madness.

Hot summer existence - childhood soaked rays,
the happy family sat together;
locked inside the television's strange ways.

Heat beat whiskey breath that lingered in air,
I removed my shirt not thinking it would
lead to my doom - feathered violent wings soared;
shadowing the lazy sun's windowed form,
a belt screamed pain in a back freshly torn,
escape a dream in someone else's head.

Later, as tears ironed the blue creased pillow
bafflement roamed through old tired corridors,
ache, sweat and blood dished out without a blink,
alcohol's smile from its proud warriors.

To this present day, even though wet words
saturated the question of, why dad?
No answer was given in open truth,
'I saw myself in you,' a casual lie.

Toughen this image that reflects one's own,
make the boy a vessel to carry pain,
fighting my time within growing up land,
in the cold reminded stain I'm here now.
I forgive you though, with all of my love.