Mike Berger

Tattered Child

Eyes are the mirror;
they speak of ugly things.
Melancholy drips
from trusting eyes.

Tattered flesh; black and
torn where the belt buckle gouged.
Too traumatized to cry.
Suffering brought on by a
drunken stupor..

The child escapes his
drunken father's wrath
by hiding in the dark corners
on his mind; he watches fish
in a mental aquarium.

His scars will never fade.
He will turn to the dark
side with anger and violence or
become a cipher, walked on by

Either way, we'll triple dose him
with meds and steal away
any chance of being
a real human being.

Mike Berger © 2009


A single drop caressed
her blushing cheek. The
corners of her eyes were filled
saying more than a thousand words.
Her soft smile could belong
to the Mona Lisa. Tears didn't
hide her bright eyes; they
seemed to shine. The beauty of
a waterfall or a flickering flame
in a fireplace produces the
same emotions. Few things
are more beautiful than a
woman with tears in her eyes

Mike Berger © 2009