The fire started in my parent’s room
They tried to shut the door
So my little brother and I wouldn’t know.
The smoke went through the cracks and down the hallway. My father was the one who lit the match,
Even when he promised he wouldn’t.
But like I’ve always been told,
“An addict is always an addict”
and my mother just couldn’t take it anymore.
The fire spread to my bedroom first,
Burning all my childhood memories,
Leaving scars and smoke in my lungs
That would be there forever.
Did they know what they were doing to me? My little brother acts like it never happened. But I know he wishes his role model
Never lit that match.
How could the man who taught him how to play baseball Ever do such a thing?
My little brother stopped playing baseball
And I moved out of my bedroom
But some things will never leave you And to this day I can still smell
The lingering odor of smoke
On my clothes.

Snakes are sneaky
they slither through the grass
without making a sound.
When they bite
it is deadly.
Your words come out like venom
goes into my bloodstream
and nearly kills me.
The only difference is
you do it by making a lot of sound.
Yelling.
You like to yell.
But so do I.
Are my words venom to you as well?
Just before I die, you apologize.
I start breathing again
and I think you do too.
But everyone knows we do this
every weekend
and Snakes never just bite once.

You turn the music up all the way
so you can try to drown out your fathers words
repeating over and over again in your head.
This time it was about your weight.
Even though he couldn't even say it
without all the words coming out slurred
and his eyes rolling to the back of his head.
You wanted so bad to tell him that
you could lose a few pounds,
but he will always be an alcoholic.
But you don't because that would
only make him angrier.
You knew he was only taking it out
on you because his wife was leaving him.
You just walk away
knowing he wouldn't even remember
the conversation in the morning anyway
because he does this all the time
and you're used to it.

It starts in my chest as a small burning flame.
I feel it go down my right arm and into the tips of my fingers.
Almost painful to the touch, my hands tingle.
Almost as if my soul was trying to reach out to anything that would reach back.
My face turns hot and red.
I try to take a deep breath but feel as if my lungs have quit their job.
I lose control of myself.