War is hell on earth, and so
are my family members.
Hearts usually radiate warmth and compassion,
but theirs are icy and fail to feel anything.

The smile and laugh with a haughty tone,
acting as if they resemble royalty.
They are the rulers in their minds, while
we are the bowing peasants.

Whenever they are around, I feel the
Jaws of anger bite down on my heart.
Those jaws infect me with hate and
anger, and it almost pushes me to scream.

I am held back by my mother’s hands
of peace and tranquility. She softens the jaws
and slowly pulls them out. “Ignore them,”
she preaches, while she passes the pernil and rice.

Christmas dinner with them is painful, and
landing on spikes might feel better.
Only difference is the pain lasts seconds, but they
Don’t leave till their arrogance is bashed in the
back of our heads.