As a child,
I had to escape the yelling and screaming
Of two parent's
That were undeserving of the gift of children.
My mother would spike my step father's coffee
With anti-buse
Whereas if he drank he would become deathly ill.
So around the corner in a long vacant field I
Built an underground fort.
So well concealed that one could walk over it's
Roof and this was a child's
Perception of escape from two adults that
Behaved as children.
They are both deceased now and have been
Long since forgiven,
And now miss them both very much.
Roses were not then without thorns were
Not yet then grown now they have
No scent.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem