backstory
Sins of a father and mother, other than raising a baby brother to a daughter, go farther to make both into a martyr
You see, the word he’d always call her always brought her to tears, feeling fears that pushing, shoving ensues. Throwing shoes, hope it’ll due to do some kinda damage to this man I learned to hate. When a little boy hits the corner to spectate
She said, “What the fuck are you doing? It’s around 8. TO BED.” “Why when dad and mommy talk the ground shake? I fled to the room where heads lay that are doomed to lie awake and eventually dream of a brighter day.”
You see he looks just like his dad, so he knows no sound made is best when she’s mad
He guess black eyes can change who you once were before
She grabs her boy and her girl and makes a bee line to the front door. “Take the little brats, you know you’ll be back once more.” And in the moment he means it deep in his drunk core. He sleeps it off and wakes up—depression coming on. “I should say I’m sorry but now they’re surely long gone. I know they hate me. I can’t remember what made me, and lately I’ve been missing my little girl. When she was born I promised her the entire world.”
As he looks toward the sun, he remembers his only son, remembers his only one.
But the problem is repetition
But the problem is repetition
So his problem is recognition. Wishing fishing trip missions with wife and kids could be more than just apparitions of visions stuck in eternal intermission.
Decisions.
But he’s likely out of time by now
Sins of a father and mother who evolved into hated lovers hover over the heads of the begotten child sufferers.
The little girl is confused. Been abused so she doesn’t speak to parents, she refused until the situation has been diffused. “I hate that man like my mom do. Come to think of it, I think that I hate momma too. My life is lacking significance. What if I finally ended it, or at least suspended it. Tired of being dependent on a broken couple that’s limited. I thought love had to be limitless.”
In the rear view mirror she meets the gaze of her hurting mother. Swollen in one eye and tear-filled in the other. “We’ve got nowhere to go. A loveless marriage and now I leave it with none to show. Except the hurt and two kids that surely hate us both.
If only
If only
If only
If only I had known. Say it’s just a nightmare, someone say it isn’t so, but no. This is reality, where my reprieve is a fatality. And all I see is demons battle me. Rattling all my cages. If they just could take a break. Now my rage is growing outrageous. A weekend, or just a day. Just a day I could use a breather”
So fast forward through many years and the kind of tears that sear what’s inside. It appears that the problem is repetition
As the sins of a father and mother rubbed off on a daughter and baby brother and their others of sad significance
It seems that the problem is repetition, hence
It seems that the problem is repetition, hence
And the problem is recognition then
