He sat, completely repentant
He had hurt her before, he knew
There was defeat in his shoulders

"I would like to pray about this," he said, searching for change in a greater aspect.

Beratement
Scolding
She needs a husband who's going to be around
Better around beating than away?
He had put that past behind him
She felt reason to bring it up
Over
And
Over
She needs a husband
He's there, but apparently,
Not enough
Miscommunication
Frustration
Defeat in his being

She keeps talking and talking
Saying the same things over and over
Beating him with the same verbal stick
He feels awful
He knows his wrongs
He lacks self forgiveness
He fears himself
He fears losing her due to his own actions

He desires to pray
He wants, and is seeking change
She's stuck
Stick in hand
Ready,
On the attack

Prayer
She's stuck in a
Loop
No forgiveness in the
Hardened heart
He's defeated,
Wanting so badly for change

how do you like that,
alchemist?
you turned lead into gold
but it’s not that shiny
is it?
maybe your flask was
rose-tinted
things didn’t go as expected
did they?
you could’ve been happy
if you never knew
at the end of the journey lies
absolutely nothing
how do you like that,
lover-boy?
you won her heart
you’re her one and only
but how do you like
the public sarcasm?
the beratement at home?
what about the “love-taps”?
“you just can’t do anything
right”
that’s the dialogue
right?
we call that abuse
you got what you wanted
but you didn’t really know her
did you?
how do you like that,
young man?
you learned the ways of world
how the real predators
and boogeymen
are just people
just like you and me
you’re safe now
with that truth
but do you feel that?
you lost something
didn’t you?
you feel empty inside
but before you rant about
darwinist suits
corporate scumbags
******* shockjocks
just remember kiddo
you did this to yourself
they didn’t take it
you gave it up
the innocence of a child
you got to the age when
your eyes show you
the truth you need
not the lies you want
but look at you now
maybe you really need the lies
sure they might
hurt you
chide you
scorn you
tell you you’ll never make it
but at least you wouldn’t be so blue
and the world wouldn’t be so blue
the truth
the real truth is
you’ve got to see the roses in front of you
but remember the thorns just beyond
sometimes you’ll get lucky
and miss the thorn
but not every time
so don’t let your hopes fly too high
but if your fear holds you
that rose will stay a distant dream
so why not just go for it
with a smile on your face
and just see what happens?

"I'll just suffer" became my catch phrase because I learned from you that if I ask for help I will not recieve it. In it's stead I will recieve unkind words, judgment and beratement for all the things I already acknowledged my failure in and already feel bad enough about. That burden is acid in my mouth, it's the reason I can't sleep at night. Knowing that if I come to you for help another obstacle will fall before me.

I have learned that I can't turn to my parents to help or be proud of me. You will never be my encouragement or my acceptance. In your stead I have to turn to my friends, to their parents. Because you simply will not bring me to the surface when I'm drowning. You let me sink and tell me to drown so I know how bad it hurts. So instead I will reach my hands to those who will pull me above the water and teach me how to swim and keep afloat.

You're selfish, it's something I have to live with. You think that because you have suffered that others can't. And when they haven't suffered enough they can't desire or seek help. You are allowed to run away and escape the pressure but you force me to take it all on my shoulders. You are the rock and chain that drowns me.

It was on the walk home,
from school.
A path I always took,
with slow deliberation.
That Frank sidled up to me.
"Hey man, you ever smoked bud?"
Reaching into his sock,
he produced a small bag.
"You wanna?"
That Cheshire grin.
We slipped off the road into a small pine thicket.
He shoved what I'd now refer to as,
"Bricked out Mexican grown *******,"
Into a little metal pipe.
This was no,
"I didn't get high the first time" event.
No,
I got ******* ******.
I wandered my neighborhood after,
for quite some time.
Everything was beautiful.
The colors of the trees and the houses
all burst forth!
Brilliantly vivid.
I journeyed home and came to find;
the beratement, the hate,
it rolled off
like so many drops of water.
I fell asleep listening to "No Quarter,"
for the thousandth,
but the first time.
Life never was the same,
after that.