Substructures

I watch him as he goes
With all my children inside the van
But what is inside the man
Is a thing I cannot know.
A soul marred by knots and gnarls
Some foul sulfur in the exhale.
Resonating behind a pleasant veil
Seeps a constant, guttural snarl
But there are a million ways to bleed
And if I’m being fair
They may thrive more in his care
Than around my ever-aching need;

My failures and retreats.