praying at the end of a long day.
On your knees
with a shallow heart
and a head filled with distractions,
sing a song of uselessness
and mourn for your transgressions
a glimmer of hope
a rebellious spirit
and you're back to where you started again.
Close your eyes and try to feel it
force your understanding,
so that you can sense your "righteousness"
under the layers of dirt that piled on it
in a dark and private room
out of a sense of obligation
no praise, just questions
and a certain discontentedness
desiring nothing but desiring nothing
and waiting for it to happen
as if it were magic, and you could do nothing
about it.
And you think you understand God
yet you do not listen to him,
O hypocrite be warned,
your "discipline" has failed you
and brought you to the edge of madness
because you try to control yourself
Let God do it, just listen.
be obedient.
The Evil Series
Fredrick Uri Kristen ... better known as Freddy is a professional hit man who travels the world based on the contract kill, he's been hired to do.
Freddy also has a deep and abiding hatred for other individuals he kills for no charge. These people use and abuse children, especially those who profit from the children.
For his contract kills, his choice of weapon is the Rutger SR40-C. Lightweight, compact, and extremely powerful handgun. For anyone else he goes after, his choice is the Bowie knife. He will slice you to pieces with it if you happen to be on his list of "Who to do."
But Freddy wasn't always this way. As a child, he had learning difficulties, thus, his parents sent him to a special class. This class had strict rules and to not comply would mean a form of punishment no young person should have to endure. Several months had passed when he returned home and a week later, his house exploded due to a gas fire in the kitchen.
Freddy was blamed for it as his brother, Peter looked on. Sentenced, he was remanded to the state asylum for twenty years. At the time he was fifteen.
Several years had passed and he became a self-learned man. Between that and physical exercise he was strong in both mind and body.
The guards at the asylum would repeatedly beat the inmates, either because they broke a rule, or they were bored.
A day came when Freddy had had enough. He overpowered and killed five guards and torched the asylum where it burned to the ground and made his escape.
Time passed and he met and fell in love with a woman who knew his past and was determined to keep Freddy in that "peaceful" mode. For two years Freddy was happy and content with the way his life was going. His girlfriend even got him new identification and fresh look. Freddy's life was good. He even worked where she did at a playhouse and was learning makeup styles for the actors who performed and became quite good at it.
Then came the apartment fire. He almost saved her, but the floor let out from under both as he was carrying her down the steps and they fell two flights down and she died. Freddy had burns, over seventy percent of his body and the anger that laid dormant all this time resurfaced.
No one knows what he really looked like as all the information about him at the asylum burnt in the fire. No fingerprints on file anywhere to be found. He is a ghost.
And pretty much after that, his new life started. To date, he has over seventy contract kills and a good three hundred personal kills. He sees it as doing what the courts can't or won't. Giving them a life sentence in hell.
So, to answer the question are they made or born, the answer is yes to both. Just that some people are forced into it by circumstances, while others relish the idea of being evil. With Freddy, he's accepted who he is. And that could be the key to the question.
Can one accept being a bad person and live with what they do? The teenage bully who becomes a father and teaches his own son to be the same way. It's a cycle that can never be fully broken.
As I wrote that, l I changed my mind. It's not accepting what you become, it's the circumstances that brings you to where you are that defines good from evil.
After all, one day you have to get down off the fence. The side you jump to makes all the difference in the world.
Her World No More
You left her lying in the field,
sad, afraid, and broken;
you always pointed out her flaws,
but her value was left unspoken.
There was a time you made her walk
behind, in your shadow...
and even then, you put her down
to drop her self-worth low.
Luckily, you didn’t know her
strength or resolution;
you underestimated her
resilient constitution.
She crawled across your fading tracks,
and stood on her own two feet,
then grew and thrived, for even bruised,
her loving heart stayed sweet.
She came across a cave of gray,
where I had crept to hide
and wait until the Grim Reaper
found me asleep inside.
She knew I’d been her first true love,
and saw past all my scars;
her perfect voice woke up my soul,
and warmed my cooling heart.
For she had been my first love too,
back in the days of our youth,
and even though I’d messed it up,
her heart still knew my truth.
So I must give you thanks today,
though friends we’ll never be;
you had her once, but did her wrong,
and now she’s safe with me.
———————---
© 2023 - dustygrein
(based on Christina's World, by Andrew Wyeth)
breaking the glass
i lean on the mirror
and it crumbles
under my weight:
it's been
a crutch for far too long,
a fragile justification
for a hatred that based in an evil
far deeper than my flesh.
i can no longer
pick up its pieces
and cradle them in my hands
peering desperately into their edges
looking for an excuse.
i can no longer
mimic its cracks
on my own flesh,
trying to find
what makes it so irreplaceable
so i can achieve its permanence.
the windows long ago cracked
and let in the outside air.
i gave up
on trying to hide from the weather.
the plates
long ago shattered,
i gave up
on trying to keep them empty,
leaving them in their shelves to collect dust.
the crystal cups
shattered,
they were so used to being half-empty
that they couldn't handle being half full.
the chandelier
has shed its jewels
and laid bare
upon the wooden floors:
it is no longer
the center of attention
and it sighs in relief,
being freed from its own expectation.
i broke
the screen on my phone
after i dropped
my dependence on its glow.
but the mirror
is always the last pane of glass to break.
it trapped me in a prison of flesh
that didn't match my brain.
every time i raised my fist to smash it
my own hand blocked it from passing through.
i was my own nemesis
and in order to defeat me
i had to let myself
win.
