He was born to the wrong man that barely taught him the correct way to stand. He was a Serious man. He left his position as person who watched over, never sober. The boy grew up with a breakable man. Not falling over from a foul smelling liquid, but not too strong. Not too strong at all, he wasn’t much of a Serious man. The boy loved him and shunned his first watcher. He wanted to become that man. With the plan to stay forever, never severing the bond.
The boy grew up into a Serious sober man after years of struggling with a predilection for addiction, there was to be no exception. He still knew how to joke, poke fun, how to rub against those in his life. Causing strife came easy for such a Serious man. There were no flaws with him, none that his family would admit. “That’s just the way he is.” After time he had a wife and more time after a son, his only. One he called “Sally Ann” though he was just a Serious man, he had to mold son just like him. But the son was broken you see, he could never become such a Serious man, though the man thought yes he can.
The boy hit teens, raging, fighting battles unseen. He argued much with the man. He felt threatened, scared by the Serious man. Blows were thrown, the boy pinned to floors, sometimes choked. Houses were left just to return again. Nobody believed the boy, blamed the boy, asked the boy to forgive such a Seriously flawed man. That was the one thing the boy couldn’t understand, how no one would believe him about things done by the man. He always had to ask for forgiveness first, no matter how much he hurt.
He hurt so bad the night he got tired of the fists and took a sharp edge to his wrists. But there was and never will be another Serious man.