it's like there's a stranger living within me
one that wishes to take up less space
and speak not so loudly.

hushed tones sound deafening in empty hallways
no matter how few people are around to listen
I have become scared of the sounds I emit, no matter how necessary.

wish I could sit pretty on the head of a pin
and not have these thighs that rub together
like sticks used to start a campfire to roast me over

I am edible in the eyes of the insane
but there are more of them than there are of me
so I might as well submit to purgatory

treat it as I did for close to 12 years,
something I had to face at least twice a day
once in the morning and again before bed

you'd spit fire in my direction
and I'd send a thank you card
and tell you to expect flowers in the morning

i was  in still water and you were a tornado
you disheveled me every chance you got
and I never once thought to seek dry land

never once thought to rid myself of poison
because to me it was normal,
and I hate you for that.

hate you for making me think it was okay
okay to grow up in a home where abuse was normal
and accepted.

I pass the street of my childhood home and cringe
every slamming door, broken hinge, and shattered dish
replay like violent storms in my memory

things I wish I could forget, but know I never will.
you are the reason I jump as I turn corners
and itch at the thought of razor blades.

i lay restless turning the thoughts over in my mind
staring at a clock with numbers that only climb
screaming and slamming doors never did make for a good lullaby.