...Dial Tone...

You pick up telephone lines dead to forgiving souls as you seek retribution from the free.
I don’t understand you
Allow the dial tone to convey my inner thoughts
Adequately process proclamations that your injustice is rightfully just as you beat Queens like pen to paper for baring a thought.
Concluding with a validating back of the hand for speaking when not spoken to
She worshipped you even when scared to
Allow me my fallen King to understand the unjust in your feeble attempts to reclaim your manhood by hitting her?
Speak to me in volumes
Dwell on the major and minute not sparing a detail
Revisit the beginning transcended to the climatic end of you stored in cell blocks similar to zoo cages for acting an ass
Feed me lies of how 5’3” next to your 6’1” frame ended with you feeling intimidated
Explain how questions lead to a blood stained mouth and locked bathroom door
Fill me with your anger, your miseducation
Your defeat so that this bullshit you spit to me over phone tapped lines can all make sense
You Sir are a coward
No longer worthy of a name
Adorn a scarlet letter like wife beater to your chest as you are one and the same
Tell me; was it easy beating her just to profess you will change?
Process this thought, my non verbal exchange
Dial Tone
Please don’t call here again