Abuse travels like an electrifying storm
that causes a weatherman and his wife
to have cold sweats late at night,
where they feel there is no redeeming
Abuse enters brainwaves like a
guileful idea that the culture keeps
returning to, when values aren't enough
to uphold the meaning of life.
After sun has hid her head in sorrow,
I grow tired of speech. Of politics,
of strong opinions, of clashing tides
because it's the majority rule or there
is disrespect somewhere,
waiting to burst out and make me
feel hopeless for inquiring,
for having so few understand
we must preserve what we
Do I want to keep up with this generation?
This generation that does worse than slam
doors, often pinning the f-word at mothers and
lovers; and I admit I've cursed at loved ones
but I've cared enough to go back,
to say I am acting wrong.
Abuse isn't always physical.
It comes in silence and disappointments
with shrunk faces and even more shrunk hearts.
Abuse huddles its team members
together, deciding to strike against
those who contemplate what matters
and what our humanity entails
- all at once -
Was listening to "Apologize" by Timbaland while writing this.
1/26/14 @ 8 PM
I often wonder about this new generation myself. I see no ambition, no goals, no structure, just living for the day. It is sad to watch and very frustrating. My heart goes out to those who are trying to do good.
I believe in apology when in order. It is a sign of remorse and wrongdoing. Excellent write