a fork-ed tongue

i've accused him of this crime

but who am i to hold him liable?

me, my own suspect prime

my own convictions, disgustingly pliable

yes, he weilds a fork-ed tongue,

and just like he, i'll fall from highest ladder rung

so much pain he brought on me, but also his facade & lies —

his deceit, scar smattered conscience, & innocent guise

everything he did to me... i thought i knew

all these years later i find old scars are new

~ in memory of my father ~

if

if remorse could half cover the debt that i owe

if pain & fear of what's coming were a pettier foe

would it make these tears that well start to dry?

would it turn the screaming to a manageable sigh?

if truth were an easier thing to reveal

if secrets were less of a heart-wrenching last meal

would my fingers loosen their grasp on my tongue?

would breaking down seem less like my noose being hung?

those gallows seem monstrous — looming over the light

& i've got no means to cleanse, to forgiveness i have no right