Basilica of a Broken Child

Obliged to silver, a feeling of lingering tranquility.
Too many broken promises and breaths holding a stench of liquor.
Remarks made from the man who was supposed to be reverent,
But proved about the maturity level of a frivolous teenager.
A man without a filter, a chip on his shoulder
No barriers for the words from the withered mouth,
Excuses trailing down his chin,
Like the foam from his most recent relapse.
Tell me, father, brother, uncle, lover,
What could you do to make this up to the little girl,
Hidden under the floorboards of the broken place she calls "Home?"
A blank expression remains,
The air held what he had done.
Are there confines to a man's actions?
Are there boundaries to a man's hand?
We ask ourselves questions only God can answer.

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