Behind A Dark Curtain

SUICIDE – BEHIND A DARK CURTAIN                  A Poem By Olu Jacobs D'POET                                        
At age 7, I had learned the art of domestic violence from an abusive father,
Secretly I pondered if this character was inherited, but he did not bother
Her tears could flood a sleeping heart; a woman’s tears my blue mother.
Age 11, I had become my mother’s pillow to cry on, and this I did not bother.
Each night he returned from a stressed day, her body was just a stress refuge to commit murder.
The perfume from his breath become his greatest strength, it smelled like a strong mixed drink,
I was too small to realize the power of alcohol, too busy trying to push him away, I could not think.
All I did was to hide behind a dark curtain hanging in my mother’s tearoom.
I hung my pain, fears and tears behind this dark curtain of doom.
I had grown accustomed to a woman’s tears, my soul adapted to the wetness of this ink.
Each morning I woke up, I watched my father stride out of the house, and I prayed he never retuned like a flink.
She’s excited when it starts to rain,
For in it, she conceals her pain.
So much pain was hidden in her tears,
She felt nothing about the issues of life, only her fears.
She quarantined herself in isolation from friends and the world.
I can’t live with this sting, I must go, she whispered into my ears.
Her tears had committed suicide over my body, but I was the only survivor.
My father had just returned, the horn from his car sent an electric signal to her heart,
She stood up in tears just before she locked the door from the inside with me outside,
In agony she said “Never make a woman commit suicide behind a dark curtain”