The painted windows conceal,
a dream we wish to live.
But beyond the layers of artistic lies,
is a perfect concoction of demons and love.

Underneath the crafted illusion,
beneath his tarnished skin,
lives my version of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.
The armor of my forced smile,
becomes no match when he pops the bottles.

We dwindle on the edge of hell,
burned by the blistering heat beneath our feet.
One wrong word, one failed move,
and he pulls us in to his delusional dream.

His slurred, cruel words leave deep wounds in my heart
as his guilt-stained hands mold me into the daughter he imagines.
There's no escape, no relief until he walks out;
Doors will slam, tears will fall, and the opaque glass of our windows will shatter.

Morning comes with false happiness,
deceiving family love returns.
He'll fail to remember if we paid our dues,
but the rest of us will never forget the cost.

The display is ready,
the canvas newly created.
Every day is one step forward, every night two steps back,
living behind the painted windows.