Apple Pie

When she decided to leave,
it was the first day of July.

From her very melancholic home,
where she spent a sad childhood, a lie.

Amidst the flood of poverty and abuse,
She sold apple pies, and held her head up, high and dry…

Her already dead father, she wanted to kill
(Not that she didn’t ever try)

It was saddening for her to leave her loving mother,
“I’ll never meet her again, will I?”

But then determined, she thought, “I’ll leave”,
“It’s uncertain, but living here, I’ll surely die.”

She made it no secret that she was leaving her home forever.
Her mother had no emotion, her face so dry,

She knew she was better off without a daughter,
as she looked at her husband, with her taunting glassy eyes.

“You’ll come back someday, I see you then”, he said with a smirk,
staring at her scars right below her right thigh.

Her father’s abuse wasn’t making a difference to her anymore.|
She had submitted to that pain since Junior High.

There were marks, on her body, on her soul…
she persisted the night, because she knew that the morning was nigh.

As she left she hugged her mother, the woman who was
her only saving grace, since her life’s first cry.

And as she stepped outside picking up her not-so-heavy bag,
and waved her hand, it was a final goodbye.

Just then, her drunk roaring father appeared with a knife,
although he couldn’t see his daughter eye to eye.

“Take one more step, and I will see…
How you’re every bone, I will set fire to, and fry.”

She tried to be calm, but the old angry man
wasn’t ready to stop his despise.

In a matter of seconds, all scenes of her victimized childhood,
through her agonized mind, passed by…

and after all the years of suffering in the abyss,
this time, she did not wish to comply.

Angry, she looked around, she wanted something hard:
she found a metal rod in the pig sty.

As her father with the knife, charged towards her…
‘whapp..’, she hit him with the rod, right on his eye.

One after the other, blows on the eye, the head, the gut,
out from the mouth came a gush, of blood and rye.

The lanky drunk man, fell face first on the ground,
He brawled, screamed, struggled, but no match to his daughter so spry.

She hit him repeatedly, squealing her throat out…
beaming at him, with a bloody descry.

Neither her mother, nor the neighbors did anything, but say,
“The menace that he was, this serves him right.”

She took out the knife, from his lifeless hands,
to the shock of all the people looking by,

And in her rage, she held up the knife as high as she could,
and punctured his heart, yelling “goodbye dad, goodbye..”

As everybody stood there numb, she called the local police herself,
feeling no regret at all, as her cold father, in a pool of blood lay by.

Facing the idea of spending the rest of her life in jail,
she asked for one wish only, it being her last one…
“Give me some freshly made apple pie…”


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