He stands by the counter,
coffee cascading into the mug
he holds with a white knuckled grip.
It starts small like that.
A drop rebels from the waterfall,
splashes up and over the lip of its predestined
pool, lands on the skin of his finger.
It starts quiet like that.
A hiss, the world has betrayed him,
symbolized by that insignificant little drop—
that insignificant little daughter.
It starts, insignificant, like that.
Turning, furious, pupils dilate
(fight! fight! never flight!)
the mug crashes against the wall.
It starts with a crash, like that.
He thunders like a stormcloud,
shrouding the room in bright white
rage. Stares at the brown splatter
The roaring dulls, then escalates to
a lion defending his territory.
Claws were never sheathed.
Hatred never veiled.
Fists tighten and smash into immovable objects.
He is an unstoppable force.
When will you learn?
It doesn’t start like that.
It just never