The Wall- The Thin Ice
~ Momma loves her baby, ~
~ And Daddy loves you, too. ~
~ And the sea may look warm to ya, Babe, ~
~ And the sky may look blue. ~
My mother sang this to me. This was when I was small. Two or three. I can still
remember it. She baked bread in the morings. Dad read a newpaper. We were all so
happy. This was before the drinking. Before the beating. Before my dad discovered
I wasn't his son. I was just us.
~ Oooooo Babe. ~
~ Oooooooo Baby Blue. ~
~ Oooooo Ooohh Babe. ~
And there was Allen. My big brother. He was five. The apple of mom's eye. Dads
pride and joy. He would die in less than a month. Killed by masked man.
~ If you should go skating,
~ On the thin ice of modern life,
~ Dragging behind you the silent reproach,
~ Of a million tear-stained eyes,
~ Don't be surprised when a crack in the ice,
~ Appears under your feet.
~ You slip out of your depth and out of your mind,
~ With your fear flowing out from behind,
~ You as you claw the ice.
We were out walking. It was four in the afternoon. Mom had given us some money to
buy milk and a treat. We were almost there when he jumped out of the bushes. A
man wearing a clown mask. He pulled a knife. I can still here the swish noise
that it made as it sliced though the air. The sound not unlike tearing paper as
it slid across my brother's throat. I'll never forget it.
Mom and Dad lost control after that. They turned to the bottle. And they took out
their frustations on me. Blameing me for not being the one who took the knife in
the throat.
Blameing me.
Disclamer: I don't own the Wall. I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I only
have the peices of my shattered illsions and my scraps of sanity.
~ Momma loves her baby, ~
~ And Daddy loves you, too. ~
~ And the sea may look warm to ya, Babe, ~
~ And the sky may look blue. ~
My mother sang this to me. This was when I was small. Two or three. I can still
remember it. She baked bread in the morings. Dad read a newpaper. We were all so
happy. This was before the drinking. Before the beating. Before my dad discovered
I wasn't his son. I was just us.
~ Oooooo Babe. ~
~ Oooooooo Baby Blue. ~
~ Oooooo Ooohh Babe. ~
And there was Allen. My big brother. He was five. The apple of mom's eye. Dads
pride and joy. He would die in less than a month. Killed by masked man.
~ If you should go skating,
~ On the thin ice of modern life,
~ Dragging behind you the silent reproach,
~ Of a million tear-stained eyes,
~ Don't be surprised when a crack in the ice,
~ Appears under your feet.
~ You slip out of your depth and out of your mind,
~ With your fear flowing out from behind,
~ You as you claw the ice.
We were out walking. It was four in the afternoon. Mom had given us some money to
buy milk and a treat. We were almost there when he jumped out of the bushes. A
man wearing a clown mask. He pulled a knife. I can still here the swish noise
that it made as it sliced though the air. The sound not unlike tearing paper as
it slid across my brother's throat. I'll never forget it.
Mom and Dad lost control after that. They turned to the bottle. And they took out
their frustations on me. Blameing me for not being the one who took the knife in
the throat.
Blameing me.
Disclamer: I don't own the Wall. I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I only
have the peices of my shattered illsions and my scraps of sanity.