San Francisco, CA.
This is just the complete version for those of us who aren't as patient as we used to be, or don't want to search for both parts. Enjoy...
As a child I remember sleeping at night,
With pillows hugged close as I trembled in fright.
Not of the monsters huddled in the dark,
Not of the ghosts, the vampires, or the werewolves bark.
I wasn't even afraid of the infamous "Boogieman",
One thing I do remember and hope you'll understand,
Is this fear of a crimson butterfly and a wavering hand.
As I explain, I hope you'll listen to this,
There is a deep, dark secret, I beg you won't miss.
You see, each night I'd walk in the kitchen to ask for a kiss,
And while Mother would hold me tight, Father would just hiss.
He'd say, "Don't ask me for kisses or pats on the back.
Don't ask me to build your dreams or hopes that you lack.
Instead leave me in peace and stand on your own,
For my blood is cold and my heart is of stone."
Being young as I was, I didn't comprehend,
That on this so-called "Father" of mine, I couldn't depend.
Now, it wasn't the lack of support or the anger he'd expend,
Rather the lack of a father and the lack of a friend.
One night as the stairs, I did ascend,
I heard a whimper from the corner,
So I had to descend.
Crouched in the dark, was Mother with tear filled eyes,
Beginning to walk towards her, I could now hear her cries.
Scratches and bruises were revealed to my sight,
As I held and comforted, to control her fright.
Then and there I prayed I'd make a stand,
Against the crimson butterfly and the wavering hand.
Confident and strong, I marched into the den,
These hurtful days I would now put to an end.
"Father," I said. "I can no longer pretend,
That you to hell....God will soon send.
Perhaps even an angel our hearts will one day mend."
Embarrassed and angry the six foot man stood,
With a fist clenched tight, and a club made of wood.
"How dare you, I'm your father you little bastard!!" he yelled.
Frightened and trembling, my ground I still held.
Punch after punch he continued to give,
Falling to the floor, I wondered if I would live.
Black, blue, purple, flashed before my eyes,
And hit after hit made me re-live all his lies.
CRACK---A loud noise came from aback,
Grazing my shoulder and hitting my father in the back.
Three more melting shots followed, hard and unbound.
Leaving my father, sprawled on the ground.
Looking to the door I saw mother standing,
Her eyes focused on the bullets landing.
"Mommy, you killed Daddy!"
"No, sweetheart, I didn't. I killed a monster..a monster who gave us nothing but pain....hadn't he?"
Staring at my father, I turned to his hand,
Encircling his finger was an old wedding band.
As I looked closer I found something queer,
Closer and closer I looked as I began to fear.
That on his ring, the shape of a butterfly had begun to appear.
Blood trickled down his arm and covered his head,
With a crimson color that was deep and red.
Glaring at each other, my mother and I, fled.
And as blood continued to cover my fathers hand....
"Mommy, no matter where we go across the land,
We can have faith in each other that we made a stand.
And no longer in our lives will we see,
The crimson butterfly and the wavering hand....no more Mommy....we are free!"