Glass House

Never enough, yet too much

Pain too loud, yet nothing said

Your open bottle emptied your arms

And your jaw unhinged to spew guile and scorn

As your fists closed to smite—

To decimate the one bearing your likeness.

We speak no more, yet you wonder why.

This is the price you pay when

Your god is your vice,

And, for worship thereof, stone a child to death in a glass house.