That Saturday Morning

December 2, 2008
Every Saturday I wake up early with the bright light that came from outside,
I’d run downstairs, maybe to watch TV.
I’d eat bagels with cream cheese and strawberry jam, tasted like heaven,
My hands felt sticky after I made a mess with the jam,
My dad would soon yell and tell me to get dressed for work.

I had always gone with him to work,
But I had to take a stand; I didn’t like to go,
It was a weekend, a break form school, why should I go,
From a wonderful to a horrible morning in minutes.

We would yell at each other,
I sounded like a baby, especially as I remember back,
His face looked scary as he would chase me; I could feel the rumble in the floor,
At the end he would force me to go,
It felt like the worst day of my life.

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