i've come to realize
that you must not care.
because i hear you talk
through the walls of this house
and i sense collapse.
i'm one step--one final snap
away from screaming at all of you
that i've been the lowest of lows.
and that all of you make me this way.
i'm so close to telling you all
but that would open a can of worms
on my end, and i'll never get away.
i'll reduce myself to tears.
i'll scream at you.
curse at you.
hate you.
i'm six months away
from freedom
i'm six months away
to being able to talk.
to finally get help.
i'm six months away
from my brother
he's always number one.
more attention
you defend him.
you make me the *****.
you make me the enemy.
well ******* all.
i hope my poetry get's published someday
and this poem will wreak havoc in your souls
when you go to purchase the book with your
'beloved daughter's' name on it.
and i hope you read this
and i hope you cringe.
i don't usually wish such ill.
but today
at this time.
i think i'm going to be sick.
i think i want to die again,
because honestly.
i've always been better
but always came in second place.