His salt
and pepper hair,
The short,
flat-top cut,
The brown
and gray mustache,
With the
five o’clock shadow.
Lifeless,
dark gray eyes,
With pupils
black, big and round,
Bloodshot
from the ghastly drugs,
That pumped
through his veins.
Strong
arms that once held me,
With tender
love and care,
Now push
and strike my broken body,
Like a
hammer that pounds a nail.
Flames
of hatred,
Burned
hot, and bright, and strong,
So I felt
nothing the day you left,
Except
relief, and room to breathe.