At the top of the stairs.
Each room a refuge-
A place to let the anger subside.
They are not mad at each other,
Not this time.
Each door, decorated with their names
And months old artwork,
Was slammed in my tyrannical face.
I did not yell, holler, scream
Or stamp my feet at them,
Not this time.
My crime was only suggesting that
9:45 was too early for lunch.
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