The stench of his breath was unmistaken,
I could smell it from across the room,
No matter how much I tried to avoid it,
There was whiskey on his breath.

My daddy wasn't known to drink,
But tonight was a different story
Matters were long since left at hand,
And Daddy didn't like it

He stormed into the other room,
And grabbed mommy by the arm,
Yanked her and pulled her down,
And laughed as she fell to the ground

How I cried to see the sight,
But I couldn't stand in the way,
For surely Daddy'd beat me too,
If I tried to help mommy out

I ran upstairs into my room,
And hid beneath the bed,
Hoping that the screams would stop,
But never did they cease

Hours passed with more to come,
And still they went at it some more,
How I wished that this all would end,
That daddy would end his rage.

Just one more punch,
And a clamber I heard
I rushed downstairs
To see what was wrong.

One by one descending the stairs,
I found mommy lying on the floor,
As I ran to be at her aid,
I noticed she wasn't breathing.

Tears began to fill my eyes,
And I began to wonder why.
Why did daddy do such a thing?
What did mommy ever do to him?

I looked over to my father,
And stared at him in remorse,
'Daddy, why did you do this to her?
She was the only thing I had left'

He returned my gaze and began to walk,
Heading toward the door,
Soon the police were to arrive,
And take me far away.

Apparently daddy had turned himself in,
Told them everything,
Yet no one seemed to ever figure why,
He had slain mommy that night...


A poem I thought of after seeing a contest about the smell of whiskey. This is not true for me, but I know that some kids somewhere have had to endure this kind of pain. Yes, if it sounds like it is in a child's point of view, it is supposed to.
Written July 19th, 2005