Maybe tomorrow will be better.

The child is fed and smiling, sits back with her mum, tired after a day of fun. Toys across the floor.
The front door opens. He's early. 
The house isn't tidy, child's face is dirty.
Fear overcomes her, apologies pour out. 
He turns and leaves. She cries and cleans. 
But knows what is to come.
He returns, breath smells of beer. Child sleeps, she cowers.
Maybe tomorrow will be better.

Claire W






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