11d (edited) • Poetry
"He Can't Be That Bad"
Your fault.
Her fault
Their's
Never his
The words start to tangle
And he starts to twist
Voices begin to scream
Objects thrown
The dodging game again
Guard your tone
The fingers point
Here comes the flood
Voices raise higher
Words spilt out like blood
They splatter on the ground
Glass shatters
When will she learn
Only his voice matters
Liquid stains the floor
Seeping through the gaps
The broken home tainted,
The slow unending collapse.
The power is his
You beg and plead
This charade again
His pathetic need
The silence after.
It's hollow and hard
The stains stare back at her;
So do the shards.
He smiles again.
Hand slithers to hers
No matter what happened
It could always be worse.
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"He Can't Be That Bad"
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