Charles Smith (A Poem)

Charles Smith

I was born during the night on the 5th of november 

To a simple and loving family not quite anchored 

My mother tragically and bravely died at child birth 

My father went to drinking and died from his thirst 

As such my humble abode became Saint Philips

All I have of my past are a few simple trinkets 

and the stale and polluted Birmingham Skyline 

A dull and aching reminder of my thinning bloodline 

Father Henry headed the old destitute orphanage

A man of little poise and living beyond his frail age 

He believed in the strength of the strap and of fear 

and was rarely mistaken as anything but austere 

The first time he beat me I decided to flee quickly 

his weakness was how he perceived me so tritely 

Mine was my inability to survive on my lowly own 

My heart was never meant to become cold stone 

I slinked in defeat to the stale and unkempt structure 

I learned that Henry had died suddenly in the pasture

That was the beginning of what became true hell

The day that I met young and insatiable Raphael

Those nights in the study room still haunts me now 

Each humiliating morning I would cry but silently vow

To bring forth a great vengeance upon that beast

I would bring forth his death and head to the east   

It happened one night during the despicable act 

I grabbed a candle stick, struck, felt the impact 

The crack of bone sent shivers down my spine 

The fury in me is impossible to explain or define 

I hacked at his bloody and cold corpse mercilessly 

I wanted no man to look upon his face personally 

No more tears when his face came to ones mind 

I didn't stop till the candle stick began to sickly grind 

I didn't flee but stayed there during the night staring 

I couldn't believe my vexation, my frightful daring

The nuns walked in that morning to horrified screams 

This is what I say in my sleep, my deepest of dreams 

There on the floor, a headless and batter corpse 

Me laying in his blood naked and strangely hoarse 

 Upon request my old home was shut down forever 

and I was let go without charge altogether 

temporary insanity, all in all they said I snapped 

This of course is not true, I simple learned to adapt 

You sometimes need to kill to survive and to remain 

If you go to the building you can still spot the pale stain 

Of that beasts blood soaked into the damp and rotten wood