ACHES [Wattys Winner 2015]

The riding Leather

There was a child,

Who saw it all.

The blood fill eyes,

Of the man.

And the escaping cries,

Of the woman.

He hit her hard,

Till his leather stained,

With more blood.

Her cries,

Became shudders,

As more skin scraped off of her.

She didn't cry for help,

She didn't cry because it hurt.

She cried because she saw,

Her child witnessing it all.

The ritual was a frequenter,

Haunting through,

Whispering tendencies of silence,

Before and after.

The man with insanity,

Riding through his belt,

And the woman facing it all,

'Cause she couldn't provide for her child thereafter.

One day,

The child grew tall enough,

To hold the advances,

Of the riding leather.

He held it tight,

Enough to bare the man off his pride.

The child looked into his fierce eyes,

With equal fire braving his insides.

The man subdued,

And now one could hear his cries.

As his riding leather stood against him,

Now he knew,

In the battle of life,

He had not only lost,

As a husband,

But a father too.