In the wake of the morning

The baby still snoring The girls awaking The mother talking The father responding The sister walking Her dad flipping, through channels While she’s sliding through news feed Her mother rises To the cooking awaiting The sister still roaming inside the house, peeping through their door asking If the father wants coffee, seeing the races on the screen The scent lifting in the kitchen The eggs popping with salt and pepper The food on the table waiting The father sits, the mother joins The daughter still wandering to her sister’s door Getting the awaken baby in her arms Her sister walks She prepares with her scrambled self some eggs and beef Her sister gets close to her dad with the baby The ignition starts to fire The sister leaves the baby in the father’s arms and closes the door, she sits at the table The syllables clash with one another Stabbing, punching, grabbing one another in conflict Volume arising, she stands placing her foot in front of the other Visualizing her sister’s door being still, listening To the roaring of the beasts Their growls, their yells and snarls The room becoming a battle ground Wanting to go back but struck with fear of being consumed There is no safety of these cries of those beasts For it has become a routine Is there an escape besides running away? Where the harsh cold wind slaps your face Where the heat grabs you making you sweat Where your feet don’t seem to tire One in front of the other Right, left, right, left Heart is pumping Arms moving Harshly breathing Temperature rising Even by running away the sister comes back Sitting on the steps Prolonging her entrance on the door