Bullies the older ones, gets away with it too, knows how to use words, can use past hurts, has no emotions whatsoever, has been beaten when young, imagines this is the way to get along, it’s the law of the jungle his father said, you have to be tough he said, he was in the middle of a little light refreshment, the belt in his hands, he was counting the welts on his small son’s back, never forget he shouts, the boy is afraid to cry, you get hit for that, he waits for his father to stop, then it will be happy faces again. The day is forgotten, the next day, he is in the play ground, there is an argument, it’s only a matter of time, before he puts his skills to the test, if he gets thrown out of school, he’ll get a reward when he gets home, well, his brother got his first bottle of vodka for the achievement, too old, his eyes are slanted, they are not wide open and wondering, there is no awe, it’s a case of what is there for me, that’s all, old too young.
Solomon sighed, the season of Christmas, the well being of Spirit, the time when the welfare of others ring the bells inside. He watched the Child, the eyes half closed, no excitement in them, they weren’t dashing here and there, instead, there was something cold, he wondered, when you see a face, you see the life, when you see it in one so young, there can’t be many doubts, old too young.
Young mother has committed herself to a life time relationship, much too young to make such a commitment, she has a child now, one on the way, he regularly beats her, well, he is passing it on, there is a life and this is the way, she is not looking forward to Christmas, no violence is all she wants and a few toys for the child, and the hope her children escape the misery that her life has become. Much too young, afraid of violence, can’t open her mouth, suffers depression, a never ending circle. Solomon sighed, once it goes in writing, it goes places, and then the good stuff happens, he’d seen it happen so often, just paint it with words, amen.