My father lived behind locked doors,
Steel and silence, distant wars.
He missed my firsts, my shattered cries,
Now he’s back, and still—he lies.
He’s not the savior I once dreamed,
Just another crack in childhood’s seam.
He tears the roots I tried to grow,
And blames me for what I don’t know.
Mom and Dad, their love was war,
Slammed doors, bruises on the floor.
Yelling matches, shattered glass,
I was the silence they walked past.
I took the blows, I took the screams,
And buried them in broken dreams.
They tore each other—and me apart,
And left a storm inside my heart.
Now that storm—it never sleeps,
It rattles bones, it dives too deep.
Anxiety crawls beneath my skin,
With shaking hands I can’t hold in.
My mind goes blank, my body tight,
Like fear is curling up to fight.
I smile in rooms I want to flee,
And no one really notices me.
They took my hobbies, bit by bit,
Told me to quit before I’d quit.
Pulled me out of every space
Where I felt safe, where I found grace.
No art, no field, no place to play—
Just empty halls and darker days.
They called it “discipline” or “rules,”
But all I heard was “You don’t rule.”
People leave—always do.
Sometimes by choice, sometimes too soon.
One by one, they disappear,
’Til I’m the only echo here.
Loneliness wraps around my spine,
A quiet ache I can’t define.
It whispers, “You’re too much to bear,”
And I believe it… then pretend I don’t care.
I’ve bitten my tongue until it bleeds,
Too afraid to voice my needs.
I swallow truth like bitter pills,
Because silence sometimes saves… or kills.
So pain became my secret friend,
A lighter pressed to skin again.
No flames could burn like what’s inside,
But still, I tried and tried and tried.
But even fires need a spark,
And one soul lit up all my dark—
Molly. My shelter. My steady breeze.
The only one who truly sees.
She doesn’t ask for pretty lies,
She wipes the pain out from my eyes.
She drops the world to hear me cry,
And never once has asked me why.
She finds my laugh inside my tears,
Pulls me through my darkest years.
When I am drowning in my doubt,
She’s the one who pulls me out.
She doesn’t flinch at broken parts,
She holds them gently—heart to heart.
My best friend, anchor, chosen kin,
She sees the battle I hold within.
And when I say I want to quit,
She’s the reason I still commit.
To healing, growing, breathing air—
To daring hope and learning care.
Her love’s not perfect—but it’s real,
And that’s the one thing I can feel.
In a life that’s blurred with endless pain,
She’s been my shelter in the rain.
So here I am—still scarred, still real,
Still breaking, but I choose to heal.
Not for them who watched me fall,
But for the one who hears it all.
For Molly, who reminds me how
To fight for moments, here and now.
And for the younger me who cried—
She didn’t deserve the pain she hides.
I’m not whole, and that’s okay.
I still wake up and face the day.
Still standing—shaky, bruised, and torn,
But breathing, trying, and reborn.