I stared out the window, unable to bring myself to look at him.
To look and to see the anger resonating throughout his body.
I waited for it to hurt, I waited for anything.
All I felt was the drugs racing through my veins
I should have been sorry, I thought, but I wasn't
the drugs helped with that,
made everything less than what it was.
Made me uncaring. Made him less evil.
His words didn't register, and his movements,
violent as they were, held no threat.
Honestly, I would have laughed.
Would have laughed, because he deserved so much worse.
Worse than anything I could ever bring myself to do.
One should leave something like this,
run away, never look back, and accept the happiness that the world tried to gift.
Too bad the world forgot their stamps when they sent it through the mail,
I would agree to being addicted to this suffering,
and as all addictions, hate was impossible to leave.
so I watched out of the window, at all of the kids in the park
the ones with no idea what addiction was,
the ones who proudly wore their DARE t-shirts,
the ones who played war on the jungle gym,
those kids would be devastated when they discover what war really was
when cooties become something much worse,
when they discovered it was better to drink, smoke, and fight
and I could merely smile, and feel pity
because they had no idea what they were missing.