A four hour drive from RI to dwell
On all the harsh memories.
Pulling in, parking, silence,
Is in the Tundra, yelling in your ear.
Pushing a small 45 down the back of your pants
As you walk through the automatic doors with no fear.
A slight grin and tilt of the head at the policeman,
While waiting for elevator, you notice a mother in tears.
Doors open, as anticipation begins words start to develop.
You slowly walk out onto floor four taking a turn right,
Room four thirty seven is at the end of the hall.
Your mother is thrilled to see you made the drive,
And the nurse tells you news.
As practice you nod and grin,
Your step dad sitting in the chair you ask politely,
  May I have a moment with her
He leaves he closes the door behind him.
The quiet words become louder a piercing scream croaks.
Four holes through the chest, vivid and clear.
Walking out the room with not a word to the step dad
With looks of concern, from everyone near,
A hard turn left leads you to doors wide open
headed back downstairs, you feel the heat on your butt,
While walking out you get stopped,
by the same man where it began
kneeling on the floor with hands held high,
You don't have a moment of fear,
you feel she deserved it.