Paintings on the Walls


I look to my left

And what do I see

A suffocating sight

That’s choking me


It’s horrible disgusting

Fills me with fright

To know that it’s there

Every time I look to my right


I lift my head up

And it’s there again

He says it’s there forever

It’s on the ceiling


Thrown on the floor

Her body jerks

Kicking her slapping her

Punching until it hurts



Water falls

In her ears

Blurry sound

Full of tears


“Mommy mommy

Are you okay?

No, not again

This happened yesterday!


And the day before that

Will this stop

Where’s the phone,

I’ll call a cop!”


Bam! Bam!

And there he goes

And all that’s left

Is an empty dial tone


Blood is splattered

Mixed with her own

Now the paintings of a dead son

Are easily shown


He picks him up

Off the floor

Then throws him out

The backyard door


“Look what you did!

You made me do this!”

And as he stares at her

He balls up his fists


She starts to get up

With a timid shake

And she prays that he won’t hit her

For her daughters’ sake


He sits the gun

On the floor

And soon came his daughter

At the bedroom door


“No don’t touch it”

She screams as she runs

She then bends down

To pick up the gun


“And finally now

The tables have turned”

She screams

While the gun is held to his head firm


Struggling and fighting

Pushing and shoving

Slaps and punching

Loud words and cussing


Bam! Bam! Bam! Bam!

And there they go

Now the paintings of a

Dead wife and husband are easily shown


And all that’s left is a little girl

Who’s mother

And brother

Meant the world


Scared and lonely

With these paintings on the walls

A mother a brother and a father



One more round

The gun will go………..

Now the paintings of a dead family

Are easily shown


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