Bfirst Blood Poem by Barry A. Lanier

Whenever my father left that morning,
Thinking he might say goodbye,
Or have a good day

From that point on in my day,
Seemingly nothing was right,
And ruined my day.

When my friend walked away,
Playing ball at recess,
Reminding me of father.

From that point on we fought,
I may have lost,
Marveled at the volume of blood.

Ruined shirt and new pants,
Cuts and bruises,
First blood.

My blood made me proud,
Running home to mom,
Upset and concerned.

Yet I told her I liked the pain,
I wouldn't let her change my shirt,
So complete and bloody

When my father came home late
I'd show him my blood and scars
Patiently awaiting him to pass out