Thoughts of a Loner.

Oh dearest Annabelle,
Such a lovely and radiant child was she,
Her laughter willing to light fires within voids to many,
Innocence ripe as the very first sunlight,
But oh dearest Annabelle,
Jaded,
Jinxed little girl,
Child graced by the ruinous touch of Atë,
Oh poor little Annabelle.

"Annabelle, come here dear~"

As she ran on her little squeaky feet,
The rotting planks creaking of doom as she giggled,
The house reeked of misfortune,
There sat the "man" of the very empire,

"Yes, father?"

Her little voice trembling yet soft,
Oh dearest Annabelle loved that "man,"
The undeserving man,
Bottles of whiskey scattered as shimmering marbles,
Glassy across the wood,
The air thick with shimmering dread,
Shadows kissing on the peeling wallpaper over the confiding walls,
As she hopped,
A battered doll clutched tight in trembling hands,
The little soul shivering with the wrath of the drunken beast,
Her innocent eyes searing for a thundering escape,
Her father's growl a thunderstorm and breath a toxic fog,

"I remember you hiding some money away~"
"You are a fucking curse you little runt~"
"Oh dear, Annabelle hand over the money to dad~"

The stench of whiskey embracing her lungs,
Heavy as despair's cruel shroud,
Her angelic heart was a trapped sparrow,
Fluttering for escape of the cage called "Home",
Furniture looms a landscape of emerging threat,
A threat so familiar,
Her father monstrous in his rage,
A broken king in a crumbling court,

"Oh Annabelle, you ungrateful bitch~"

As the identical belt wrapped around his fingers,
Casting a symphony of horror and screams,
As she wailed of the slashes over her frail back,
Her eyes streaming of tears of blood,

"Please, Father I beg of you, stop, it hurts!"

Yet her pleads were unheard,
Uncared for,
As the symphony continued,
Angels of death rising in amusement,
Mercy was a stranger in this house of dread,
A stranger that never paid poor Annabelle a visit,
A stranger that never rang the bell.

Oh dearest Annabelle,
She stands with her small frame against the world's weight,
Her mother's eyes hollow and distant,
Fixate on invisible demons crawling in hell,
Methane's sweet stench mingles in the sour house,
The scent of despair,
Poor Annabelle hopes,

"Mama, why do you cry?"
Her whisper in the void,
Lost and distant to motherly being,

"Voices, Annabelle, VOICES~"

Her mother's hand trembling with unseen fear,
Her gaze lost in invisible hallucinations,
Rooms filled with phantoms,
Hearts sealed with sorrow's indelible mark,
Yet poor Annabelle pleaded,

"Mama, why do you not hug me anymore?"

Her innocent hazel eyes laced with tears unshed,
Her mother moves frantically in response,
A intimate dance with shadows of night,

"Danger, danger is everywhere, Annabelle!"

Tears tracing the path of guilt,
Love long buried beneath the layers of paranoia,
Love long buried under the haze of addiction,
Yet Annabelle's little hand reach out,
A hasty attempt hold her mother's embrace,
A hasty attempt to feel the mother she once knew,
But oh she was so lost,
Lost,
Touch forbidden in the realm of delusions and whispers,

"Mama, won't you look at me? Please, Mama~"

A plea swallowed by silence,
As her mother growls,

"No I won't, you are an imbecile, FUCK OFF!"

As Annabelle felt the weight of untold stories,
In the suffocating embrace of addiction and disorder.

Oh dearest Annabelle,
How much she hated her uncle Charles,
Oh the sweaty hand patting on her head,

"Oh dearest Annabelle, let's play a little game~"

His smoke scented breath trailing over her little body,
She despised this gruesome play,
As his rotting fingers trailed her very soul,
Tainting,
Corrupted,
As she revolted back,

"I don't like this game, Uncle, please stop!"

But only she got a slap,
Burning inferno across her blush cheeks,

"Shut up, little cunt, I am enjoying this!"

That was not her uncle,
It was a monster,
The demon of lust cloaking and digging his claws,
As she wailed,
But the night continued,
The child forever lost,
Child lost forevermore,
The Sun shimmered the very day of judgment,
But oh dear Annabelle,
Her fragile soul couldn't bear any longer,
The animosity finally slit her throat,
Strangled her soul,
Crushed her lovely face with a rock,
Splattering blood across.

Oh dearest Annabelle,
Sunshine felt her rosy skin,
Bruised over her Uncle's "game,"
She lay now silent,
Her soul finally resting,
Poor Annabelle.

Poor Annabelle.

~ Sapphirus