Fighting in the kitchen
Fighting behind closed doors
Screaming matches they won’t even hide
Threats of leaving
Who knows who said it first?
They were never happy,
So we weren’t either.

Then they split
Split months,
Split holidays,
Split lives
Two houses
Two parents
Two versions of me
Two influences in my head
Telling me who to blame
Who to trust.

I became a peacekeeper,
Messenger, translator,
Or liar

Clothes kept in bags
Packing up pieces of my life every week
Moving back and forth,
But I’m stuck in between
Just me,
Pretending I’m okay-
Trying to stay whole

I’m like this because of them.
So much was happening.
I had no one.
I couldn’t talk.
I couldn’t share.
It’s too late now.
They’re there but it doesn’t help,
I’m too far gone.

It makes me dream for something
But now I don’t know if it’s possible
I just want love
And happiness,
A perfect family
What is it like to feel whole?
What is it like to not have a broken family?

I want to tell someone
I want to be proud
But I’ll just be a joke
I don’t want to feel bad
I can’t help it
I’m happy with myself
I want to be happy with others but I can’t
Because they’ll just make it a joke

I love her,
But she says things like
“Oh no, a 97. Are u going to cry?”
I’ll bite my nails til they bleed
Stay silent

But, it’s like-
yeah.
maybe I will.

She embarrasses me.
She ignores me.
She always stands up for him —
but she wouldn’t do it for me.
She makes stupid little comments
that shouldn’t affect me.

If she only knew
She doesn’t even notice.
She doesn’t even care.

And yet I still forgive her.

Why does she have to be like that?

Bad day
Bad week
Bad month
Bad year
Bad…life?

Suffocating silence

Lonely
I am alone

They are there-
But they don’t even know

The weight of the world on my shoulders

Is it just me?

It can’t just be me…

The monster used to be under the bed-
Now it hides in the mirror.
The glass is intact,
But it cuts deeper than anything.

Chapstick used to be the only cosmetic you owned-
Now makeup covers your face.
Meant to hide a million imperfections,
Ones only you can see

Drawings used to be on the paper-
Now they are all over your wrists.
Made not with crayons, but with a knife.
A way to feel, to hurt.

Dessert used to be a reward after dinner,
Now it disgusts you.
A punishment,
Causing horrible thoughts to boil over.

The monster follows you,
Out of the mirror-
Every day,
In your mind.

Inescapable.