His broken heart, battered

A spear spliced the soul

Anguish becoming anterior

Grotesquely it grows

 

How does one, overcome

The fragile feelings 

Like a sunburn

The damaged heart is peeling.

 

The two-ton guilt

Shackled to his shoulders

Dragging him down

Berated by boulders

 

Constructing a concrete coffin

Around the ache he acquired  

Fearfully fretting 

Undoubtedly Uninspired

 

Perched at the precipice 

Debating his demise

Let it grow or let it go

An amplifying assault arises

 

Evil distorts and contorts his mind

Swirling down the darkened drain

Twisting like a rope of twine 

Gorging itself on the pain

 

Factions between a son and his father.

Even after long decades have past

Putting miles between what used to be

But somehow the damage—it lasts.