The Man
He walks though the door,
I know it’s him.
The smell of cheap beer fills the room.
The fire inside me is lit, he stumbles in,
Wobbling back and forth he falls against the wall.
Even at the word “hey” the fire in me is fueled,
I rage at the sight of him,
The dark circles under his eyes, the sweat dripping down his forehead,
The way he scans the room like he’s lost, the anger grows.
Anger fills my eyes, my stomach rolls and turns, my fist gets tight and firm,
My foot taps with silent aggression.
I ignore him, he mumbles and groans and falls to the ground.
I look at this pathetic junky that lies on my floor of my house;
I wish he would just die.