Living in Fear

They don't understand because they don't live with you.
His hate for you has progressively gotten stronger.
Days become longer, nights even more so.
Lately, the only thing filling the house is his yelling.
You can't shut him out. Then it only gets worse.
Throwing things, screaming, wishing he had done better with his life.
You know he's yet to realize how lost he'd be without you.
You know he's yet to understand that no one will be willing to tolerate him as much as you do.
There's nothing worse than living in fear.
No one believes he could do wrong.
But you know. You know who he is.
He's the monster that haunts your dreams when you're a child.
He's the sick, twisted man that puts on a mask and plays innocent for other people.
He's the one who's the victim.
He's the definition of manipulation and no one else sees it.
But you do.
You see the red that rims his eyes in rage behind closed doors.

Guide that inspired this poem: 


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