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He wore a red jumper, a warning to me I feared his slapping hand when I was a kid unhappy with himself, would lash out at the world I was always in the way of his harsh physical word Frustrated by his endeavour, control was not his thing he'd lose it washing cars or when the lawn mower pinged anger inside his soul, meant there was no peace sadness in his eyes, my pity brought out the beast He was very clever, and on good days we had fun always treading eggshells of the terror that would come weary and alone I planned to escape his wrath as soon as I was able I would walk a prettier path Abusive life continued and I feared my own shadow violence dominated my life, no loving I'd been shown the day I left the home was the day I had revenge peace descending on my life, no longer had to fend Anger left behind for others to now deal no more trembling at the table at every meal looking back I learned to love instead of hate but for my father, it is all too late He died with no regrets, he proudly said thinking only of himself and his selfish head giving wasn't something he was ever taught unfortunately his son, in violence is now caught
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Jun 8, 2015
Jun 8, 2015 at 5:07 PM UTC
The Circle Of Life
He wore a red jumper, a warning to me I feared his slapping hand when I was a kid unhappy with himself, would lash out at the world I was always in the way of his harsh physical word Frustrated by his endeavour, control was not his thing he'd lose it washing cars or when the lawn mower pinged anger inside his soul, meant there was no peace sadness in his eyes, my pity brought out the beast He was very clever, and on good days we had fun always treading eggshells of the terror that would come weary and alone I planned to escape his wrath as soon as I was able I would walk a prettier path Abusive life continued and I feared my own shadow violence dominated my life, no loving I'd been shown the day I left the home was the day I had revenge peace descending on my life, no longer had to fend Anger left behind for others to now deal no more trembling at the table at every meal looking back I learned to love instead of hate but for my father, it is all too late He died with no regrets, he proudly said thinking only of himself and his selfish head giving wasn't something he was ever taught unfortunately his son, in violence is now caught
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dollys-poems
Jun 8, 2015
Jun 8, 2015 at 5:07 PM UTC
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