Looking down
She feels beautiful,
free in the mind.
She thinks people follow;
she's left behind.
It's rotted her soul,
her heart and smile.
Takes a pill to feel sane,
for a while.
Her husband doesn't know,
she's in control.
He bows to her,
thinking she would let go.
He's smothered.
He's lost.
She's got him whipped.
The children lost respect to what she is.
She's not a mother.
She's a tick.
Why could something so cheap be worth all this?
When will it end the question remains.
In reality,
Death is the relief of the nightmare within.
It's sad truly to see someone suffer.
Worse when they use it to cover.
Mink coats,
Diamond rings,
Hate in the heart,
The perfect things.
"Always make sure to love your God."
I can't believe a word you say
You fucking slob.
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