Friday Night Fights

Day two of NaPoWriMo.


Friday Night Fights

He came home late

Stumbling, slurring his words.

Sat at the table, dinner was cold

too drunk to care.

No words were spoken yet,

we were all waiting quietly

in my room, too scared to move.

We heard the footsteps going

to the bedroom.

Voices rising in anger,

Let the Friday Night Fights begin.



2 thoughts on “Friday Night Fights

  1. Tracy Moore says:

    Very eloquent way of expressing what were very unpleasant memories. I’ve always had a great appreciation for the creative expression of difficult topics. Well done!


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