The Beast
It's hard the see the pictures
the ones you chose to share
the mark of blunt force trauma
that he has brought to bare.
I can see in my mind each blow
from his fists and head alike,
the kicks, the stamps, the crushing,
the hands around your windpipe.
The ripped out hair the cut split lips
the broken bones inflicted
The foul disgusting tongue
of poisonous words vindictive.
Your children have a centre seat
but their screams fall on deaf ears.
For when his rage like lava erupts
no words will calm their fears.
The hate and loathing he brings to bare
the intensive screams of rage,
if this was a wild animal
it would be locked up in a cage.
What have you done to to deserve such pain
what demands did you inflict?
Just a want and need to love him
and for loyalty to you insist.
But such words are an affront to him
how dare you ask for this?
The love you share upon him
is returned with the force of a fist,
all dispensed in the name of Love
three words he says so often,
but the meaning of Love that he bestows
is rancid stale and rotten.
This man insults his gender's name
for he dares to be named one at least
For he is no man or human being
He bears the number of the beast!
Dedicated to a dear friend.
Written and Composed by Mark Longson 2017 (c) all rights reserved
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