Living with an alcoholic is like
Standing outside during an on-and-off thunderstorm.
You never know when they'll snap,
When they'll take on their meanest form.
We cooked, and laughed, late in the night,
And I walked her to her room
And put a movie on, turned off her light.
"I'm going to get a shower," I said,
Departing into the bathroom.
When I reemerged, hair still wet,
Tension - in the air - loomed.
"You need to treat him better!" she screamed at my brother,
Words echoing throughout the house;
It seems to me that once the lights are doused
And she's left alone with her thoughts,
Well,
That's when aggression is taught.