and that's what matters most
the hurting of another human being
for the pride, the moment of knowing
that for a second all that mattered was pride
vengeful, deceitful, hurtful pride: no acknowledgement
of the hurt caused the children, the loved ones, one's very soul
only that momentary momenta of extreme satisfaction that ends with shackles around the feet, the hands, the waste of a man who could have done more in an hour if only he would have been able to walk away from all that possessed him, no not wife or even lover, no not child or even pet, but things, simple scarred plastic and metal
just walk
away, no amount of pride or joy will ever suffice the moment of hurt that was caused you as a child
