Rip

I wanna buy a gun
I wanna kill someone
Who, you ask, and I have no reply
Because it's you I wish would die.
Not really, no, not completely true
This loathing isn't just for you
It's for that other guy in my life
Who didn't know how to treat his wife.


Everything little thing he said to her,
Everything little thing he did for her,
Achieved only one thing,
She began to hate everything about his being.
He talked and talked and talked 
And she just wished he'd walk
Away from her, and never return
To her, and their children.


Slowly he murdered her very soul,
She felt parts of her heart break from the whole,
Over the years she lost the ability,
To see situations and their solutions clearly.
His ridicule and mindless complications,
Had tormented her mind, fraction by fraction,

And now, here she was, hardly alive.
A human unable to function or survive.


"Help!" she says, and reaches out,
"Someone save me, get me out!"


"Oh, please!" I say, "It's your own mess,
You brought this upon yourself.
Agreed, your guy is quite the dick,
But, only because you allowed him to pick.
Grow a pair, woman, ask for what you desire!
Don't moan when your man takes out his ire,
On the gutless thrash-able commodity,
You've let yourself be." 


It'll be tough to get out of this web that's been made,
But, woman, just go for it, rip off the band-aid."