The Fighter

The stale smell of alcohol is lingering,
and there’s a coldness in his eyes.
His spit like venom as he hisses profanities
and I know he’s looking for a fight.
His boisterous voice is echoing down the cold
and empty halls.
My heart begins to race as his fist connects the wall.

You deserve better, you’re worth it,
I repeat over in my mind.
My eyes begin to well with tears,
as I search for my inner strength,
hoping to make it through another night.

And though bearing the weight of what
seemed a thousand bricks,
I feel my feet begin to move.
The smooth metal of the doorknob at my fingertips,
I know exactly what to.

Whisking the door open, cold air nipping at my face.
For the first time, the weight is lifted.
I do deserve better, I am worth it.
It’s time to take my life back. I am a fighter.