You live in a fantasy world,
where false rape allegations
are as common as shoplifting in a ghetto.
She may be stubborn and bossy, but she’s not a liar.
Open your eyes to the evil in the turd you call sire.
It’s too horrible, so all you consider is vindication.
Forget your foolish talk of her insane imagination.
I’ve seen her fists fly, in sleepwalking nightmares.
It’s marathons in hell, the demons come in pairs.
Then there is the crop of bruises and torn clothes.
Knives beneath her pillow, what do you make of those?
They cremated him
because the worms didn’t want him.
Will you peer into the darkness
before the Reaper arrives?