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Personal Note:
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Poem
I suppose the blows from 
your dark fist gets softer 
with time spent running 
for my life I mean your 
face seems to fade a little 
bit more when I’m sitting 
in mass or singing in the 
choir tears always roll just 
thinking how god must’ve 
felt watching you blungeon 
my back always my back 
remember you rushed behind 
pretending you were giving me 
a big hug and brutally crushed
my chest with your bare hands 
what a gifted batterer watching 
my injured breastbones pertrude 
on my sides but twisting my 
arm was the worse only because 
I got to see the way your tongue 
hung your mouth like you were 
working on a car trying to remove 
a stubborn bolt when a loud pop 
there you got it my arm hung like 
slinky the blows I suppose are a 
bit lighter now overtime I mean 
useful tips tea bags dark glasses 
I still have no feeling in the dent 
in my back where that giant stone 
landed my doctors treated with 
gauze cellulitis infection nerve 
damage I always felt the blow’s 
should someday become a bit softer 
over time I never waited around 
to see your response not the 
last time I fled it finally sunk 
in that you was actually going 
to kill your wife if I stayed it 
would be my fault that you 
murdered your own wife 
I would be the blame for my 
own murder so I ran and ran 
even today I look over my 
broken shoulder wondering 
which one of my broken bones 
or bruises were your most 
triumph which one of my broken 
bone made you feel the most 
victorious over me which blow 
made you feel like the champion 
wife beater I’m numb wondering 
what’s goes through your mind 
after seeing me broken bruised 
by your powerful fist crippled 
emotionally weeping disabled 
afraid clutching my children 
tell me how tell me true just
how would you rate your most 
famous most memorable blows
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