Poem from last year

Your fault. Her fault Their's Never his The words start to tangle And he starts to twist Voices begin to scream Objects thrown The dodging game again Guard your tone The fingers point Here comes the flood Voices raise higher Words spilt out like blood They splatter on the ground Glass shatters When will she learn Only his voice matters Liquid stains the floor Seeping through the gaps The broken home tainted, The slow unending collapse. The power is his You beg and plead This charade again His pathetic need The silence after. It's hollow and hard The stains stare back at her; So do the shards. He smiles again. Hand slithers to hers No matter what happened It could always be worse.