• ashishpoetrywritings 6w

    Father knows best

    Men like me
    They don't know what they want,
    They don't know what they can do,
    They don't know what they should do,
    So they lurk on the abyss of certainty until catastrophy burns them
    Until life pimps their cause
    Until their mothers cry and die.
    Until their sisters fall prey to vulture's.
    My old man was a wise bloke.
    He knew of the trouble that brew me.
    He knew of the maniac that lived in there.
    So he beat me down and out
    He would break my body,and let it heal dry
    And then again the same ordeal each day.
    When I was strong as an elephant,
    he sent me to war.
    Millions suffered to bomb's, hundreds to my bullet.
    Homeless children, widowed women, lonely lovers.
    That wrecked the soldier's heart inside me.
    I came back different,didn't smile anyday thereafter
    I fucked like a routine but never an emotion moaned.
    Maybe it all died in there at the war,
    So when my aunt begged me to stop killing people,
    I didn't know when to drop the gun.
    I didn't know why to stop.
    Like this was also a mission.
    But deep inside I was redeeming myself for an early death.
    Because everyone I had killed would choke me in dreams.
    And I would wait for the night,
    I'd finally tap out on my senses.
    And go back to my mum,
    who waited to greet her innocent little boy,
    I died age 7 when my mother passed away.
    Thereafter I killed to serve the purpose of death.
    my old man was a scary judge of talent
    He just wanted me to be a part of history before my final night.
    Cause an under rated alcoholic he was.
    A womanizer after my mum's death.
    But father he was.
    And you know mate,
    Father knows best.


    ©ashishpoetrywritings