All was just fine.

Kids danced around.

On dirt ground, playing 

games and having fun, 

in my own little hometown.

I was in fact the one doing the 

touch down. 

 

But through this joy. This cheer. I knew my dad 

sat in there, in my house with a beer; with a mind 

unclear and impulsive, all; around the year.

 

Through this joy, and this cheer, I still knew 

my mom; also sitting in there. But not with 

her supposed love, oh no my dear. She didn’t 

either drink any beer, no no the liquid was a

red clear color.

 

My mom, just sat by the kitchen table at nights; 

folded arms and head inbetween. Hearing her cry 

made the young feline ask why, which wasn’t a 

good idéa. Yelled at, "stay upstair". And leave 

her alone, without a particular nice tone.