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