Fighting

They fought all the time, see?

“Drunken fighters,” she called them

And it never occurred to me

That they could

Possibly

Be the root

Of his deep-rooted unhappiness

Perhaps she understood him better

Than me

What a best friend I was

To leave him with them

Leaving him to watch them fight

Helplessly

I guess it’s better

That I now understand

But I wish I knew then

Free

She calls him now

Happier, she says

And I hope he will forgive my silent

Plea

The End

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