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