The Misanthrope Confesses
I murdered my inner child
at 7 and neither denied
nor confessed the act until now.
I remain remorseless.
Children are but people too small
and inexperienced to be adults.
Any other assessment is sentimental.
I bring no flowers for the place
I buried my child-- only seeds
of dandelion and Johnson grass,
a pocketful of dirt, and fists full
of broken glass to keep it hidden.
We murder, not what we despise,
but what we can't depend upon or trust.
at 7 and neither denied
nor confessed the act until now.
I remain remorseless.
Children are but people too small
and inexperienced to be adults.
Any other assessment is sentimental.
I bring no flowers for the place
I buried my child-- only seeds
of dandelion and Johnson grass,
a pocketful of dirt, and fists full
of broken glass to keep it hidden.
We murder, not what we despise,
but what we can't depend upon or trust.
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Author's Note
From "Misanthropy- Fear and Loathing in 39 Literary Objects", a chapbook in progress.
Other stories by Gary Hardaway
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Love this. I think I'm going to bookmark it.
Superb.
Lxx
Wow. A powerful piece with a punch in the face at the end. Great.
Fully chalk or dust or ash ... deep, serious places and phrases and lines. (I brought up misanthropy in my 2006 blog entry that I posted yesterday at F'naut, so it's on the mind.) The end is completely chilling, and I'll think it over for a while. *
Goes straight to the gut. *
At times I wish I'd had the balls years ago to do the same. Too many of his offspring now, leaving me no choice but to
shepherd the little bastards. *
Your best poem.*
Breathtaking honesty. *
The question for all of us misanthropists is why we killed that child. Will be interested to see whether and how you answer that in your chapbook.*
had an old writer friend who once said about his children:
"Children are merely insane people who may one day get better."
*
Came back to it again. Bookmarked.
I want to know why the inner child was killed. I want to hope he will be resurrected. A visceral piece of work, this. *
*
Thanks to all for reading and commenting.
that's some giant stuff right there. *
Oooh, nice and gritty. Like! *
Thank you, Bud.
Thank you, Brenda.
Fascinating. And despite remorselessness you've probably felt a strange guilt ever since. Little did you know that the little brat probably committed suicide because of all the joyless adult pressure around, and left you feeling responsible for sheer revenge. *
Thank you, Beate.