I do not miss that face of rage;
How she curled and furrowed it
making her face like clay
squashed and compacted in hate,
a monster in pain behind her eyes.

Still human of course
but demon in scores
controlled her hands
or so she claimed.
To shift the blame
or hide her shame
more then
one time she dared to say
the devil made me do it.

if I were a better man
perhaps I could let that pass
but I have made that face
punched my way
through solid things
seldom striking any human being
in anything less than self-defense.

Perhaps that was or is my pretense
not a demon but a lie to justify
the same darkness that hides
behind both of our eyes.

Maybe, I cannot forgive her
because I am afraid
that I have the same pain and rage.
So, I refuse to forgive myself.