To my Killer

He was the water in the storm,
The violent beat of falling rain,
Lulling my heart into false content,
His gentle hands a hurricane.
 .
And with them he held my face,
Waves breaking over my cheeks,
Shutting my eyes to the storm,
Wet with tears as he speaks.
 .
His calm voice tells me he’s sorry,
For all that my killer has done,
He’s sorry his storm tore me apart,
because he raised it as his son.
 .
His rain lashes at the windows,
Until everything but my world stands,
As he takes my life and shakes it,
With his hurricane hands.
 .
So to my killer I address this,
It’s either a love letter or my note,
In the storm the ink is running,
And my words stick in my throat.
 .
They held my head beneath the waves,
As his tide came rushing to shore,
My killers watched as I sank deeper,
And I watched as the rain did pour.
.
His storm has coloured my everything,
It is my night, my life, my day,
And no love, no hate, no killers,
No, nothing will take it away.