She’ll never wake up and
Wonder why she hurt
So many people,
A mechanism acquired from
Broken adults who never learned
How to be nice to others and
Passed it on to the
Next generation just as
Had been done to them,
Perpetuating reprehensible
Behavior labeled normal.
No respite from
This chafing wind
Blasting from the
Area between his
Nose and chin.
Words crashing against
Ears that would rather
Be anywhere else in
The world than here
Enduring this
But for some lame
Rule that says you
Have to shut up
And take it.
A stark verification of your place
In the order of things,
Crushing realization that
Things are as you thought they were,
Even though you hoped they weren’t.
They go about their business
Without any insight into
Who they are or why they
Behave the way they do,
Unfeeling, nongrowing, unchanging.
Someone hurt him
A long time ago.
Today, he punishes others for
His inner turmoil.
Seeking help not an option,
Only the perpetuation of pain.
Each day passes,
More fetid than the last.
They come together
Not because of chance
But certainly due to habit,
A familiarity born from
Repetition, recurrence,
Distrust for deviation,
Simple, predictable
Results emanating from
Hurt and fear.
Unwilling to hear
Anything that doesn’t
Conform to their
Intransigent views,
A world full of fear,
Out to get them,
Deprive them of
The next victory
Over opponents who would
Make them lose control.
The tree’s branches
Have grown into another yard,
One where such things
Are not welcome and can only
Be dealt with in one way.
Plants must conform to
Strict standards of
Manageability,
Unobtrusiveness,
Acceptable stature.
Though the tree might be
A welcome spot of greenery
In another setting,
Spirited growth has no place here.
It arrives innocuously,
At first seeming
Like no big deal.
It soon becomes much more
Trouble than it merits,
Unrequested complexity.
It collapses spectacularly,
A victim of its own
Unwieldiness.
