WHERE R THE HOSPITALS FOR BROKEN HOMES.

 

WHERE R THE HOSPITALS FOR BROKEN HOMES.

[ This might be the last time I ever try to write about family because I don't understand the concept ]

I grew up in a home , better said a house.

A house where I was given a family by the universe with no consent given. 

In a household where connections & conversations were solely held by visitors. 

Every room knew every family member that belonged to one. 

The family dining table was just a phony decoration for when Christmas came and we'd gather as if we were having the last supper.

Tomorrow morning it's back to fuck you , fuck you & I hate you.

A household that felt like it had more strangers than an application form. 

There would be days where we just radiated laughter & smiles.

Days where we felt like there could be peace. 

Days where we felt like maybe we dont have to be so harsh with each other.

However 

this home was a house.

A house that produces more toxicity than the levels in my system.

A house that breeds resentment , that thrives for stubbornness. 

A house that has ears to speak and mouths to shout. 

A house that-

A house that-

that forgot who I should be allowed to grow into , not how I should grow into them.

They tailor their truths with lies that look like stunning designer productions. 

Their tongues.

Smooth , slithering , slick.

A house that forgot who I was.

All they had left was my name.