The Blood on His Hands

No one understands the life that you bare,
Just so unfair,
With nothing to spare...
It is so very rare.

You don't care;
You've had nothing fair.
You pick up the knife,
And look to your wife... she has no life.

Raised above your head,
Your children asleep in bed,
Not even well-fed.
Everything yet nothing had been said.

The anger inside you swells,
Ringing along like so many bells.
Your mind tainted unwell,
Everything inside you fell.

In this world you will not recieve,
Because you've lost the ability to believe.
Your family's lost all hope...
Letting go of this single rope.

You see the pain in her eyes,
As you watch the blood flies.
It only gives you a rise,
Until you look down and see her size.

Curled in such a tight ball,
Any moment ready to fall,
Her body so round and small,
Trying to forget it all.

Death would be done quickly,
But be so sickly.
You give up on it all,
As you watch her bawl.

You hear your name called,
So tiny and small.
You turn without ease,
Hearing the please.

In the doorway they stand--
Your children in band...
And this makes you unable to stand
The blood covering your hands.

Copyright©BeckyEvans2011