Poetry

Standing at Deaths door, you played the odd's , like playing Russian Roulette.
Fooling everyone, even yourself; All those years gone by
In a swift sound barriar instant 
Why do you hurt our children so and make their pain so real?
So oblivious to their needs as you were to mine
You have passed through the circular saw window, leaving your scars on us, never to return again
Not to say hello or goodbye
Your daughter grieves for you in a fairytale dollhouse
Your son, a recluse among his own friends and family
No one knew that day, your plan to carry our your last act of unmercy
Must we continue to suffer
Shall we lie down in fields of clover and pass amongst the rest
We remember you, like a flicker of light
In a flourescent bulb going out one last time