Ritualistic week

Week, day, hour - all the same

At the beginning of each week
the bid for survival begins
though dressed in formal attire
savagery lurks beneath its seams

With just a single word
bring ruin to a generation
Learn to curb your tongue
and welcome that persecution

You bring this animosity into your home
It's a guest at your families table
You even make love mechanically
unable to drown out those decibels

close your eyes to a brief slumber
to a faceless morning you awake
a day indistinguishable from another
in the same ritual you partake

The End

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