Punching Bag

by Rex Ogle

When she raises her voice, I raise mine too. When she shouts, I shout back. When she screams, I scream. Like it’s a contest. But she always wins.

“On TV, in the movies, they make everything seem like a workable situation. But in the real world, when you work yourself to the bone, just to put food in your mouth and keep the lights on—you don’t have a choice to just leave.”

I think, We’re all losers here. None of us is winning any prizes.

“Don’t paint a pretty picture in your head,

“I chose me.”

Her mood’s like a swing, going back and forth, back and forth, only you never know when it’ll speed up or stop, ’cause no one is in the swing.

“Every generation has a choice to make. To pass on what they’ve learned. Or stop it.

“Shower. Get dressed. Go to work. Be normal.”

“You’re not alone. Not if you don’t choose to be.”

People don’t really grow up. They get older, sure, but there’s a part of them stuck in past.”