oohhaaah!
sorry it aint a poem and sorry about the end.
Blood stains everything. She will kneal for weeks scrubbing that same patch of carpet. Crying softly to herself, hiding her shame.
The little brother, now aliented, no longer contented with the games of the otherboys his age. Awareness kills fun.
the obligatory annual family photo, gathering dust on the mantle will be exposed for what it really is: an attractive, yearned for, blatant lie. The smiling faces tools of deception.
the traditional head of the family will play the traditional role: strength conveyed through unfeeling. But maybe, he is affected most, she was, after all, daddy's little girl. A fine Freudian subject.
Sales figures will plummet, graeds will drop. People will visit less and less until no one will come. No one likes to be around suffering, to be reminded of their own inevitable human weakness.
She was never there, He always had to work - which are really the same thing. it doesn't matter though. Self-disgust numbs rationality. Divorce is inevitable.
Countless nights will be spent with a pillow pulled tight over his ehad, crying frustrated tears until sleep offers a brief sanctuary. His sisters face will fade from memory brightened only by fading photos and old movies.
And all this will be caused by an unhappy child determinedly off her anti-depressants, sick to death of the smell of those damn roses.
So was it selfish? Or are the tears shed ones stimulated partly from jealousy? she escaped all this. or are they from ignorance and misunderstanding? anger?
i will leave the cloak of the question mark to say: love conquers all but leads to it's downfall.
Blood stains everything. She will kneal for weeks scrubbing that same patch of carpet. Crying softly to herself, hiding her shame.
The little brother, now aliented, no longer contented with the games of the otherboys his age. Awareness kills fun.
the obligatory annual family photo, gathering dust on the mantle will be exposed for what it really is: an attractive, yearned for, blatant lie. The smiling faces tools of deception.
the traditional head of the family will play the traditional role: strength conveyed through unfeeling. But maybe, he is affected most, she was, after all, daddy's little girl. A fine Freudian subject.
Sales figures will plummet, graeds will drop. People will visit less and less until no one will come. No one likes to be around suffering, to be reminded of their own inevitable human weakness.
She was never there, He always had to work - which are really the same thing. it doesn't matter though. Self-disgust numbs rationality. Divorce is inevitable.
Countless nights will be spent with a pillow pulled tight over his ehad, crying frustrated tears until sleep offers a brief sanctuary. His sisters face will fade from memory brightened only by fading photos and old movies.
And all this will be caused by an unhappy child determinedly off her anti-depressants, sick to death of the smell of those damn roses.
So was it selfish? Or are the tears shed ones stimulated partly from jealousy? she escaped all this. or are they from ignorance and misunderstanding? anger?
i will leave the cloak of the question mark to say: love conquers all but leads to it's downfall.