When I was younger
I would cry in my room when my parents would fight in the kitchen
I wished it would stop
I wished and I wished and I wished
What else could a three-year-old do?

When I got a little older
I would cry in my room because my dad was no longer there
He didn’t die, but it was the closest thing to it
I begged my mom to let me wear his wedding ring as a necklace
She never let me
But I wished and I wished and I wished
What else could a four-year-old do?

When I got a little bit older
I would hold in my tears when my parents would fight in the driveway
Not a great start to the weekend
I wished it could be easy
I wished and I wished and I wished
What else could a five-year-old do?

Then I got a little bit older
I would hold in my tears when the cops stood watch to stop my parents from fighting
It was a better start to the weekend
I wished it would be better
I wished and I wished and I wished
What else could a six-year-old do?

When I got old enough to understand parts of what was happening
My parents would tell me about all the terrible things each other had done
They both told me not to tell the other parent
I did what I was told
What else could an eight-year-old do?
As I got older and understood more
My parents would tell me that the other parent was lying
I believed them
What else could a ten-year-old do?

As I got into my teens
I realized that I was just a pawn in their game
I wished for a normal family
I wished and I wished and I wished
I wished for parents I could trust
What else could a thirteen-year-old do?

As I got older
I became numb to everything
Zoning out whenever my parents would go on rants about each other
Mindlessly agreeing with everything I was told
What else could a broken fourteen-year-old do?

Then I got older
I didn’t think it could get any worse…
Then it did
I found myself crying again
This time was different
I was crying in my closet

Trying to hide my pain from my brother who didn’t understand what was happening
He didn’t know that minutes ago our mom had been walked out of our house in handcuffs
He didn’t know what was happening
And I didn’t know what was going to happen

I didn’t know if I was going to see my mom again
I didn’t know if I was going to see my two-year-old sister again
I didn’t know if I was going to see tomorrow

My life was flipped upside down in just a few days
I felt like I was on my own
In my mind, I was left to take care of my brother

I went from feeling robotic to trying to be robotic
From feeling nothing to trying to hide my feelings

It’s been two years since this all happened
I’m still broken
And I’m even more numb than ever
I’m still not sure if I trust my parents yet
At this point, I’m not even sure if I have parents

Seeing my dad every other weekend
And seeing my mom glued to the TV
I’m not sure if they raised me or if I raised myself
I don’t understand

I try to understand
What more can an eighteen-year-old do?