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Lost Tears (An Ode To Children Of Alcoholics)


To all the boys who never cried
My heart it weeps for you
Longing for a fathers touch
Slipping slowly out of view

A hand it reached within my chest
And entwined around my heart
With every beat the fingers grew
Until they covered every part

And keys would fumble in the door
What would this dark night bring
And in from the night the tyrant came
The beggars received their king

To bow and scrape, perhaps defuse
To laugh at every joke
Perhaps the tyrant king would sleep
Perhaps we would provoke

With every night the fire dies
Embers of the heart recede
The king is god, he rules supreme
Don't hurt our mum the children plead

And darkness overcomes the soul
Into the night the children flee
And all around the curtains fall
And when they fall you cannot see

Who will rid us of this endless night
The blackness and the shades of gray
For beneath the pillow held so tight
Is not a place where children play

Why do these tears that belong to you
Fall down from upon my face
For once I dwelt in shadowland
Its now your dwelling place

So if you wander in the night
A night within your heart
The true King sees behind your veil
He sees you play the part

Oh wont you come on bended knee
And find the tears you lost
The true King longs to set you free
And that at any cost

Don't you long to see the sun
And feel its warm embrace
A heart of flesh and not of steel
And tears upon your face

My God He is the tears you lost
Living waters from above
He restores the broken and the crushed
With Godly tears of love

The true King wept when you could not
He wept to see His Son
And with those tears on Calvary fought
And now the work is done

Come out from amongst the dead He cries
And He will deal with all your fears
For every time you could not cry
My God He shed your tears

And all these tears He's gathered
And they flow from Heavens throne
And when your swept up in this tide
You'll know you were not alone

User Rating: 5,0 / 5 ( 3 votes ) 2

Comments (2)

I can really relate to this, my father was a violent alcoholic, no child should ever have to go through it, but if you do go through it, it can take a lot of getting over. A fantastic poem. take a look at my poem called boy to a man, it tells of what happens when you can't take seeing your mother getting beat anymore.
Oh Frank! I hear the children cowering in the night and the tears falling like silent volcanic bombs into carpets across the land. I come from a background that exposed me to many of the horrors you describe and perpetuated one or two myself before I woke up. For what it's worth I am an atheist, we all chose the best way for ourselves, but I love your poem.10/10 Martin O' Neill.