He doesn't show any appreciation
That supposed brother of mine
When he's treated with any ounce of respect
He spits it in the face of the giver
Like a chewed up stick of gum
And says
THAT'S what you call respect huh
And he stomps away
Like he was the one
Who was ridiculed and hurt
He comes up late for supper
Any supper take your pick
But tonight's was chicken fries and cold salads
He came up after it was all cold
After everybody else had finished
He sat at the table
Getting chicken grease and bits of food
All over the table
As he ate
He spoke of nonsense
Loud enough to drown out the tv
When he finished eating
He stood up with his empty plate
Just as the plate hit the floor and broke
In his drunken stupor
Which he's failed to hide but thinks he does
He didn't notice his mistake
It took a yell from the living room
Asking what the crashing sound was
To make him look down
See the broken flower pattern
And said the cat got under his feet
Even though the cat was down the hall
Ears perked up
At the sound of the crashing
The plate got cleaned up
Half assed by the drunk ass
He muttered some words about being shit on
How people accused him of drinking
When he claims he wasn't
And how this family fucken hates him
As he stumbles down the stairs
Off to his room
And slams the door
The smell of whiskey followed him
Under the doorframe
There's a ringing in my ears
Whether it was from the broken plate
Or from his drunken babble
Grinding on the back of skull
I'm not sure of the cause
But supper is over
He won't show his face until tomorrow night
Maybe
And he'll repeat the ordeal
Over and over and over again
Until he feels like
He isn't the victim
In his own drunken choices
Where somebody else can be blamed
For him
Finishing another bottle
YOU ARE READING
365 pt 2
Non-FictionHere's a continuation of 365, the story where I do my best to write SOMETHING every day. Wattpad has a chapter limit of 200, and that was reached on July 19th. So, the rest of the year will be written in this, I guess. The first 200 days of the year...
