Another Creative Writing class poem. This was supposed to be a poem about a ritual, and it was hard to find one with meaning. It's definitely not my favorite thing I've written, but either way here it is...
Battles
Droopy eyes signal
shuffling up the stairs.
An invasion.
D-Day every night.
The master bath as Normandy.
We invade.
Take our turns rushing,
attacking.
Our teeth.
Hair.
Faces.
Scrubbed. Clean.
The battle over, we retreat
to bed.
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