A small poem I wrote in one of my angrier moments. It is directed at that low scum of the Earth, the man who beats and abuses a woman who has given her life and soul to him out of desperate love.
You see, I'm a rather sensitive guy,
I get hurt easily, and I really don't like myself.
So I play games, fun games!
Games with girls, though lonely girls are best.
Games about sex, and violence, games of love
and hate, love denied and egos crushed.
The games are best when they love me, then
I can use whatever rules I want.
Games that remind me I am a strong man,
remind me of my strength and makes me feel big.
I like to play games.
But I don't like the games when I get hurt.
The girl who loved me most, who let me play
the best games... she hates me now.
The only one who accepted the rather lonely
guy who really didn't like himself.
I told her I would change, I would do anything.
I really did love her, I needed her. I did what I did
because I loved her, I'd be lost without her. Please...
to come back home...
But she glared at me, tears of hatred like I have never
seen streaming from her blackened eyes. Tears that stream
down a bloodied nose. Her bruised lip sneering in utter
disgust and contempt. Her neck, so delicate as I had once wrapped
my hands around, all set in utter defiance.
She is no longer afraid.
She won't play with me anymore.
I'll have no one to play with now.
I hate the games when I get hurt...
Commenting is disabled for guests. Please login to post a comment.