The Ballad of the Violent

He didn't see anything special about her, but he went ahead anyway.
She got married because it was normal to get married.
He was a boorish man with no respect... not even for his own marriage.
She had children because the TV programming was boring when there wasn't football on.
Time only increased the discomfort caused by the many setbacks that disrupted his peace.
The children, innocent scourges, were the subject of volcanic arguments where blood pulsed in throats.
Until one day, for a silly reason like his eldest daughter (who wasn't even five years old) breaking a beer glass, he lost his temper and his wife jumped in front to stop him from beating the child... and ended up being the punching bag herself that night.

That was not a home, but a castle of anger and fear.
The "king" imposed his tyranny in exchange for humiliation: if they were eating, it was because he was the provider... respect the king!!!
He drank and cheated more and more... was there ever any feeling involved?
He offended, humiliated, harassed…
Even his body, covered in sebum from lack of hygiene, caused discomfort, reeking of sweat and alcohol…
His patent degradation was crowned with dismissal.
(Perhaps it wasn't even his fault, since the shipyard went bankrupt...)
The chores started, the fatigue increased, and the hell got worse.
I think the only thing he loved was Fluminense (a Brazilian football club), because to this day I don't know if he abused his second-to-last son, the one he insisted on calling "“little faggot”"...because he abused his daughter, and after that, his wife stopped submitting to his foul lewd behavior.".
It wasn't long before the botfly abandoned ship.

Today, while I was having lunch, I watched TV: they were talking about elderly people abandoned in a nursing home.
Almost angelic beings, full of candor.
Left to their uncertain fate by their cruel families.
The reporter walked through that hovel, and the cameraman focused on their expressions, especially the eyes of the elderly people.
Then suddenly the taste vanished from my mouth when I recognized that bastard's eyes!
I remembered Christmas, which he ruined even before getting married.…and I was only five years old!
I remembered him trying to rape his sister-in-law, insulting his mother-in-law, father-in-law, brothers-in-law, even his wife's grandmother!!!
I remembered the child who was still inside the woman's womb and whom he killed by beating him so much…
I remembered every wicked thing that filthy dog had done, and at that moment, it came to me... willingness to forgive… serious!

My forgiveness consists of pretending I didn't see that sordid figure.
My only forgiveness was not leaving there to punch that face until it was pureed blood.
I'm sure that, like some others there, he only stopped committing atrocities because he no longer had the strength; if he had, he would have continued offending, raping, harassing… killing!
I don't think that devil can even speak anymore, since he was sucking on his gums with his few teeth and laughing at the camera, but I'm sure he really wanted to shout a lot of swear words or… “Fluminense” (?)
My forgiveness, To be hateful is to leave you alive wrapped in your own feces.

I was furious with that TV crew: a bunch of idiots capable of comparing all those elderly people full of history to children in an orphanage… incidentally, a maneuver similar to that of leftists who constantly compare criminals to fetuses.

And to you, readers, I ask two things:
The first is that you should think carefully before believing many of these angelic and well-intentioned campaigns promoted by the media.
Secondly, forgive my frankness, but after the murderous impulse passed... I went back to eating, wrote this text, and never want to think about it again.
Thanks.