Edge

What I had
Crumpled
Collapsed
Died

They are the
Tiny
Damaged
Remains

Whom I hold
Tightly
Crushingly
Close

They are mine
Yelling
Screaming
Swearing

I am lost
confused
Hurting
Unsure

Don’t disrespect them
Give
Silent
Acceptance

I’ll Attack, I’m
On
The
Edge

I’ll defend mine
Yelling
Screaming
Swearing

It’s all I
Can
Give
Them


Ken Goree


Imagine a mom …

All the skills that society shuns, are fading as her only hope of paying the bills; bills that keep a roof over her children’s heads; anger boiling, as the good folk whisper behind their hands.  Terror grows bigger every day, as the bills grow larger while tainted money grows thinner.

Tired and damaged from life’s rough treatment, she screams, yells and swears at her only two possessions, a beautiful little girl and handsome young boy.  All through the drive to school she hears “Why, why, why,” and bickering between them.  In the parking lot she curses them out the car door and squeals the tires as she leaves. 

Two blocks away, the car stops; the sobbing starts.  Shaking, she curses God for hating her, then prays for the help she can’t ask for.  She hates herself, curses herself, shouts out, “I can’t do it.  What can I do?  Why didn’t anyone tell me it was this hard?”  When she can drive again, she starts the car.  She knows where to go to kill the pain.