A Formerly Abused Spouse Wins the Game

All of our brood have taken
so strongly after you, they mimic you,
although they are really not trying to,
in every damn thing that they do.

The boys walk, talk, and act just like you,
and all of their expressions are a total reflection of how strong the influence
that came solely from you.

The genetic imprint of your fatherhood
turned quickly to undeserved hero worship
as each child, in turn, grew to know you.
How strong was the impact of you!

Our children are each little mirrors of you.
Their very existance just screams of you.
From one who once loved you enough
to bear the burden of your pride,

I am actually sick to death of you.
I look for my contribution in this equation
only to realize that to you I was hardly more
than an oven that served to simmer your stew.

They are my children too. I will teach them not
to hate you as I do, but to stand
as men against the swirling winds
of insecurity, and not to hit and hurt like you.

I will not allow our children to trod
the path that is the cycle of abuse,
regardless of how much they all resemble you;
they are my children too.

My sons will not grow up to treat women as you do,
and my daughter will not grow up to allow
any man to treat her the way she has seen
women treated by the likes of you,

just because they are a genetic part of you.
I ended up the winner in your disturbing game,
because you selfishly planted yourself
in the ground playing shoot-out with law men.

All the fears that I lived with all the years
are now safely buried in the dirt,
and you cannot hurt us anymore.
They certainly are my children now.