some call it love

some call it love
when the clothes that you wear
are all broken and tattered and torn
some call it love
when the children you bear
are left shattered and bruised and unborn

some call it hate
when you bind them to chairs
and pour kerosene onto their clothes
some call it hate
when you rip out their hair
and the blood trickles down from their nose

some call it shame
when you put them in planes
bound for distant lands, foreign, unknown
some call it shame
when they're showered in flames
and their ashes are scattered on stones

some call it love
when you torture them so
when you prod them and poke them and bite
some call it pain
when you won't tell them no
but still leave them to cold, frozen nights

(c) 2004 jordan baugher