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.