i got used to the patterns of cracks in my ceiling
to the sound of the dripping faucet
to the dusty countertops
to the shrieking wooden stairs
to the mold in the bathroom
to my mom in the couch
to the alcohol in the cupboard
to the drugs hidden behind the coffee bean jar
to the secrets behind closed doors
to the pain that's hidden in here
a familiar house
a familiar feeling
I got used to my childhood