Month's Of Melancholy
By walkersway
He kissed him with his fist Caressing his cheek with a bruise And quickly I turn away Thinking this will help This violence is accepted once more Because it is easy! Because it is right. Because it is love? I cower in my own inaction Complacent in thought that I am doing right. That the months of 'excitement' Can! will. Must get better? He smiles at me through bloodied teeth As his quivering body and terrified mind pleads for forgiveness And I believe his words and smile back. For months I happily watched each time he would make himself up Donning the wardrobe of happiness Hiding the scars and nakedness of fear below But as I stared hard and watched deeper, I became blind to the truth That all of this make-out! put up. Punch down? wasn't someone else's but a reflection of my own abuse covered in good intentions When he hit him He hit me! Outwardly I smiled and laughed Inwardly I cringed and cried But all the while I remained silent So here I am stuck Playing preacher to the deaf and nursemate to the incurable When all want is to be a friend.It is about how I felt powerless to help my friend. How much is love worth? Written April 9th, 2002 © on Apr 09 2002 05:51 AM PST 0 • 1
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"He kissed him with his fist..."