#brokenhome
they call it home.
i learned to call it something else.
the same four walls,
the same silence that never helped,
the same nights that strecthed too long
with nowhere to hide.
and i remember,
how the room would watch
like it always does,
holding its breath
while everything broke.
i was small,
small enough to think
someone would stop it,
then someone would choose me.
but the silence stayed.
so i learned early,
how to survive inside a place
that was never meant to hurt me,
how to carry something invisible
that still feels like it's there—
like red
that never really washed away.
and even now,
when the night comes back
and the walls feel closer,
i realize
i never left that room.
i just grew around it.
May 12
May 12, 2026 at 9:42 PM UTC
She hit me
and then said I was lucky
she didn't hit harder.
she taught me to apologize
for making her mad.
for existing wrong.
she didn't raise me.
she broke me,
and then rolled her eyes
when I limped.
Feb 5
Feb 5, 2026 at 12:34 AM UTC
I come from a world
where love was unseen,
buried in anger,
in places unclean.
Since childhood my eyes
have only known pain,
the shouting, the violence,
like endless rain.
I never was taught
how love should appear,
how gentle a touch,
how safety feels near.
So I made a vow
my past won’t repeat,
I won’t choose a man
with my father’s deceit.
I dream of a life
with peace at its core,
with kindness, respect,
a heart to adore.
Trauma stole years,
made me older too fast,
a child with no childhood,
a ghost of the past.
Anxiety, storms,
still live in my chest,
some days even breathing
won’t grant me rest.
Nov 15, 2025
Nov 15, 2025 at 6:03 AM UTC
I know my father.
A man never abandoned
always forgiven
never asked to carry a weight that bent his back.
A boy who never chased a dream
never felt the hunger that keeps you awake at night.
Life was gentle with him.
When storms came,
he didn’t have to run home,
home was already warm
waiting
unchanged.
As a child, he was loved
and never lost the things he loved.
But life shifted when he had a daughter.
The ground hardened beneath his feet.
He wished then that he had built something stronger,
worked harder while the clock was still his.
Maybe that’s why his voice became stone.
Why did his love feel like punishment.
Why did he tell me things a father should never speak aloud —
told me I should just die
if I couldn’t carry the weight,
told me to walk away
if I couldn’t win the fight.
How could he carve wounds into my skin
when his own had never been cut?
He was once like me,
but fate wrote him a softer story
and now he writes mine with sharper ink.
Aug 10, 2025
Aug 10, 2025 at 3:51 PM UTC
Family has always been
a vague concept to me.
You let me into yours—
still, I didn’t feel at home.
It takes time to unlearn a broken mold,
a family so heartless, so cold,
to find one that truly loves—
through thick and thin.
At your family’s table,
laughter rings like wind chimes—
familiar, effortless, soft.
Your family leans in, passing bowls with ease;
My family stands back—hands buried in pockets.
My family could never sit that close
without shattering glassware,
or silence heavier
with every breath.
My family was meant to be broken...
too many flavors of opinions,
none who get along,
forever far from resilience.
Even yours isn’t perfect,
But their warmth comes so easily
Why does mine freeze at every smile?
You say your family is crazy,
but they show up—
more than mine ever did.
Some remember me—
a cousin, a daughter,
a memory with laughter,
on quiet Sundays
when the kettle’s on
and the world feels soft.
Others keep me tucked
in unopened branches—
too polite to reach,
too distant to prune,
unbothered by who's missing whom.
But your family—
they make it seem effortless,
being together for a reason
other than obligation,
regardless the season.
They love openly,
and welcome those who are new—
an additional member to be let in,
a new story to be explored and loved.
That’s never how my family was.
Just hands in pockets,
and doors half-closed.
Not even close.
Jul 8, 2025
Jul 8, 2025 at 9:12 AM UTC
A portion of the wall, concealed deceitfully,
A portrait framed, superficially free,
Yet its distance from truth, painfully clear to see.
A painted smile, deceivingly grand,
But the cracks in the facade, I failed to understand,
A puppeteer's trick, I was caught in his hand.
Beneath the illusion, hidden in the shade,
Chains of despair, with scars never fade,
Unable to voice the anguish, in silence I stayed.
The colors of the photo, a deceptive hue,
Gray like the lies, only tears stay true,
A facade that crumbles, revealing the blue.
A picture of a dream, forever unreal,
A happy family, love he can't truly feel,
On the wall, a tragedy concealed.
In that portrait, lies a departed soul,
A family fractured, the lies uroll,
A better version, I yearn to console.
Sep 12, 2024
Sep 12, 2024 at 12:19 PM UTC
how can i ever hate you
i was created to love you
(seems like i’m the one who loves more)
how can they say
i’m getting someone better than you
i’ve loved you for the rest of my life
and no one can ever replace you
(don’t know how i’ll ever heal this wound)
you were my reason to live
everything, me becoming a king
all was so i can come back to you
come back to you safely
(unscratched even if you scream at me)
and i want to slam everything to the floor
so i wouldn’t be the broken one alone
be it glass, crystal, or diamond
(all i want is you love)
tell me how to live like you’ve never been my home
because i endlessly miss you
reset my head like you’ve never existed
because i survived without you
Aug 13, 2024
Aug 13, 2024 at 11:43 AM UTC
I am not a mother
And for that reason,
It wouldn't be fair for me to speak to the frustration you must feel having a child who just couldn't ever get it all together.
I cannot remember the times as a baby where you consoled me without anger.
I cannot fathom that there was a moment in my life where you held me and rocked me to sleep without feeling like I somehow owed you something.
I cannot speak to how many nights you spent awake crying because I kept you awake and all you needed was just a few hours of sleep to keep going.
I cannot recall these things, but I think, I hope, that you were the kind of mother back then, who did it all.
I am not a mother
I do not know the kind of disappointment that having a 29 year old child living at home must bring.
I do not always get things right
I do not always pull my weight and I don't pay your bills and I see the way you clench your fists and sigh everytime I have anything to say back about your demands.
I am far from perfect
I have caused so much pain over the years and believe me I know,
I haven't made loving me very easy.
But I am not YOUR mother.
It is not my job to regulate your emotions.
I am not obligated to take your side in every argument even when I know you are wrong.
Because sometimes, you ARE wrong.
I am your daughter
I have tried my whole life to make you proud, to prove to you I am worthy of your love, even though I am no longer a "child".
Sometimes it works
You give me your love when it's easy.
When I do something you can brag about to your friends.
You love me when it's convenient, for YOU.
Then again, a mother's love isn't supposed to be conditional
The silent treatment only makes me fold further into my own skin.
Your back handed comments about everything I don't do, and how I should be so grateful to have a roof over my head, only breeds more resentment and hurt inside of me.
I know I am lucky
I know that so many other families have it worse and that from the outside looking in, we are this perfect family.
The thing is, no one is perfect, not even you
I never expected you to be a perfect mother, a perfect mother does not exist.
I expected you try.
I expected you to teach me how to love myself before anyone else because I am deserving of it.
I expected you to be there for me when things were falling apart, without judgement, or anger, or guilt.
You never loved yourself either
And my heart hurts to think about the stories of your childhood.
Your own mother could never give you the love you deserved.
But I NEEDED you to break the cycle
I needed you to ask for help.
I needed you to recognize that you have caused a lot of hurt for me too.
I needed you to want to change.
To this day, you've never gotten the treatment you so desperately needed
I'm not saying this to be mean
I'm saying this because none of us are immune to trauma and if it's not dealt with, the cycle continues.
Unfortunately, I am now part of this cycle too
I cannot help but think that if you had only gotten the help you needed when I was younger, I wouldn't need to be the one in treatment for trauma.
I cannot help but wonder what our relationship could have been like today, had you faced your own demons and fought them, like the warrior I know you can be.
But I know,
I am not a mother.
I am under your control.
It is how you like it.
How you need it to be.
I am not a mother.
I am silenced.
Jun 23, 2023
Jun 23, 2023 at 9:27 PM UTC
At one point I called you father, and meant it.
You were not my father by blood, simply by marriage.
I had longed for a father figure for as long as I could remember,
A man who would love and raise me as his own.
The good memories were brief snippets of happier times,
While the bad were vivid, distinct memories that lasted for what felt like hours.
A nightmare that I could never escape from,
They were engrained in my memory like the words to my favorite song.
I wish I could forget all the difficult memories and focus on the good times that we had together.
What little they were, anyways.
I wish I could forgive, the way my five year old self did,
Oh, the love and admiration she had for you.
Now all that was left was anger and a bitter resentment.
The anger and confusion that came with the abuse that you perpetuated.
I would never call you Father again, if I ever saw you
I would look at you in disgust and pity,
For you will never know true, selfless, love.
And for that, I feel sorry for you.
~sdr
Oct 15, 2021
Oct 15, 2021 at 2:25 PM UTC
all the **** from your mouth that you thought was inspiring
slowly broke me down until my hope was expiring
never opened my mouth to come back with inquiries
just kept my head down and wrote my thoughts in a diary
and you read it, pathetic,
invading my privacy
called me out for feigning sadness and my ‘bogus’ anxiety
cause “im a better dad than mine so shut up and be quiet kid”
“you’re lucky im the head of this dysfunctional dynasty”
well congratulations dad, you’ve earned notoriety
for forcing my respect in the form of compliancy
and disbelieving science and the facts of psychiatry
so i ran away from home to join the freaks of society
where else could i escape from your emotional piracy?
Aug 13, 2021
Aug 13, 2021 at 9:58 AM UTC
When I left home,
I was broken and bruised.
Daddy took it out on me
When he fell victim to the *****
I thought when I graduated,
I'd finally get to choose.
Find a world where the bars
played rock instead of the blues.
The day everything changed,
There was a fork in the road.
There was a wise old man,
And this is what I was told.
"If you go to the left, you'll stay in hell.
But you'll get your revenge
when he dies in a cell.
But if you don't want revenge,
go to the right.
You'll travel the world,
you'll make a difference.
But it will be hard to sleep at night."
I didn't even think. I ran to the right.
He told me it would never be the same
If I ever had to come back.
But I was okay with that.
I had everything I needed in my sack.
Five years later,
I woke up alone in bed.
A purple heart hung above my head.
Even though I am where I am today,
I don't regret it.
Because when I go to my grave,
When someone is asked to describe me,
They'll say "he was brave."
Feb 27, 2021
Feb 27, 2021 at 8:49 AM UTC
As my father lay,
passed out in his chair
with whiskey nursing his dead heart
and healing his origami wrists
My sister and I's stomaches ache with hunger
I sacrifice my last piece of poptart to her
and pray to make it till my mother comes home
She crashes into the door
An alarm for my father harmonizes in a disastrous symphony
He dashes out the door for the next shift
Leaving my mother, crying after seeing the mess and her children passed out by the empty fridge
Her grease burnt arms scrub the wine covered coffee table
Until red stains turn pink and empty cigarette packs fill the trash
She picks up a glass and fills it with wine
and drinks away the memories until everything is warm
Thus continues the cycle
Money sparse, bills unpaid, cupboards nearly bare
Two parents whose love had been infested with addiction and depression
stemming from broken, abusive homes and even more abusive past relatioships
Leaving two children in the destruction of constant fighting which led to divorce
The eldest following her mother's footsteps of constant abuse and taking on her father's pain with origami wrists to match
The youngest never bounced back, a brick wall built from years of silence left her permanently mute. Every day she drifts further and further away from reality and lives in her fantasy world.
Feb 16, 2021
Feb 16, 2021 at 2:15 AM UTC
Some people are used to goodbyes
And I am one of them...
Believe me! I know it really well.
But some of them did not even say a goodbye
They just banged the door while leaving
And messed up my home.
By breaking all those moments in frames...
Painting my red door black...
And smashing the radio...
Now I have these walls
Really long blue walls...around my home
Allowing noone to enter.
Nov 2, 2020
Nov 2, 2020 at 12:39 AM UTC
why do we born
to be weak
to be owned
to recover alone
why do we taught
not to say no
not to be heard
not to be complete
Oct 14, 2020
Oct 14, 2020 at 2:40 AM UTC
you were right in front of me
but i missed you so bad
like you're not there
you only wanted to be loved
why can't i give it
why can't we
to each other
Oct 13, 2020
Oct 13, 2020 at 7:42 AM UTC
the train blasts in speed
sends me to the battle field
punch my heart, form a shield
i'm ready for another slit
i wonder what could have changed
cause my wound still bleed the same
Oct 4, 2020
Oct 4, 2020 at 3:26 AM UTC
who were you before your brother broke your heart for the first time when you were nine years old?
how much hope shone through your bright brown eyes before you realized your mom was human too?
and she could lie,
and she could break your heart,
and she could show you for the first time in your life why trusting someone is so terrifying.
who were you before?
before your father could barely look you in the eyes
because he didn't care to understand the pain you tried so hard to keep inside.
it destroyed you,
but you destroyed him.
the ones who say love isn't real.
i don't think they've ever been talking about a silly boy or girl.
i don't think a relationship has ever crossed their mind when their chest strains to beat through the tears.
i don't think they ever got the chance to form that bond,
just to feel it break.
i think they were too busy picking up the pieces,
broken on the floor of the house they were raised in all those years,
with the people who were supposed to show them what love is.
i think they know what it isn't.
Jan 29, 2020
Jan 29, 2020 at 10:21 AM UTC
Hi Jess nice to meet you or wait i have not no suprise there your just marks work friend i have never met thats braking up my family so i really hope your needs are met by my partner because clearly your husband isnt meeting your needs for you even though my daughter looses her dad maybe your husband can be her dad and i can go to the snow with him
Jul 7, 2019
Jul 7, 2019 at 4:57 PM UTC
what was it like when you left me behind?
with a bottle of jack clasped in your greedy palm,
did you ever look over your shoulder?
did you ever turn back?
independency never looked more like a cage
when you realize it came with
losing a childhood to a parent
dependent on *****
and lost in her liquor.
maturity is a sculpture that people
chip and mold to fit their own reality
when they forget that the
broken pieces surrounding the perfect sculpture
are really what maturity is made of.
when you left me behind
i reveled in my independency
and clutched my broken pieces in my hands,
glued them back together
and called it armor.
but i still wonder from time to time,
if you ever looked down to see your own
broken jack bottle
glass pieces by your feet,
because you finally remembered
that you left your daughter behind.
Jun 26, 2019
Jun 26, 2019 at 2:59 AM UTC
When did we lose our happiness?
Where did we all just drift apart?
How did our family turn to nothingness?
We used to play and laugh and dance
But now those times have turned to ash
And ash has turned to tears and fights
In this vortex it's only black
I can no longer see a light
I can no longer sleep at night
Apr 13, 2019
Apr 13, 2019 at 10:35 AM UTC
My father's name means
'one who doesn't mourn'.
But I have seen him
Grieving for his
Grim childhood, broken
Home, fading away of
His own father after
Prolonged sickness, his
widowed mother of
Twenty years and his
Four year old self.
Maybe sometimes your
Name isn't something
You are, but something
You should be.
-Sayali Parkar
Dec 17, 2018
Dec 17, 2018 at 10:23 AM UTC
i was born and raised
in a home of apocalypse.
all those
never-ending conflicts,
and endless wars
have wounded me deeply.
abandoned, and ignored
by people who should have taught me
about the definition of love.
but instead,
their actions shaped me into a person
who is so good at pretending,
for all to see that i grew up in
the name of love and affections,
when all i have ever witnessed
was hate and abomination.
Nov 6, 2018
Nov 6, 2018 at 11:43 PM UTC