the blood ties,
those ropes around the neck,
they don't strangle,
they just tug and tug
till you can't breathe right.
they call it love,
but it's a slow poison,
each word, each glance
dripping venom,
soft as a smile,
sharp as a blade.
you stand there,
the man of the house,
fighting shadows that don't die,
smiling at the lies
that pass for truth.
how far should a man go?
as...
Continue reading...