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About the complexities of Life....
Artwork by Bridget Moore RBA NEAC
ONE MORE CHANCE
I know that he did wrong she said,
A tear drop on the swollen cheek,
But he’s not all bad. He’s good in bed
And he takes the children once a week.
If he’s not there then I'm alone-
She paused to lick her sutured lip.
I know you've done all that you can.
Perhaps he'll learn now this time round.
When sober he’s a gentleman.
It’s my fault he acts this way. I've found
All different ways to calm him down-
The pen shook in her fingertips.
The thing is, see, I know his ways.
Without me he would just get worse.
For all the blows and things he says,
I know he’s sorry. The drink’s the curse
And he can’t manage on his own –
The pen fell from her shaking grip.
I can’t sign this. I know I should.
I know you think I'm foolish now,
But underneath I know he’s good
And we can work this out somehow.
I have to leave. Let him come home.
There’s worse things than a sutured lip.
So I walked down the passageway
And opened up the heavy door
And growled to him, “Your lucky day!”
“Told you so” he sneered, before
Leaving. “She always gives me one
More chance.” – a smirk upon his lips.