I used to play games
Where I'd walk on the ceiling
And pretend I was a fly
My hair would climb down
From where it rested on my spine
And walk the corridors of my childhood home.
I used to play games
Where my closet I'd be cleaning
As I watched my parents cry
As the skeletons came out
Slurring and shouting
And clawing at the heart
Of my oh-so-fragile mother.
I used to play games
Where I would die while sleeping
And on my single bedded coffin I would lie
A knock on the door followed by
"Are you okay?"
My parents made the most repetitive sounds.
"I'm fine," I'd whisper, clawing at my own grave.
Dec 27, 2015
Dec 27, 2015 at 6:30 AM UTC
I used to play games
Where I'd walk on the ceiling
And pretend I was a fly
My hair would climb down
From where it rested on my spine
And walk the corridors of my childhood home.
I used to play games
Where my closet I'd be cleaning
As I watched my parents cry
As the skeletons came out
Slurring and shouting
And clawing at the heart
Of my oh-so-fragile mother.
I used to play games
Where I would die while sleeping
And on my single bedded coffin I would lie
A knock on the door followed by
"Are you okay?"
My parents made the most repetitive sounds.
"I'm fine," I'd whisper, clawing at my own grave.
