Tearing Apart

(Sydney)

I lay here tearing myself apart piece by piece because you tear me apart piece by piece. You don't know how to express your anger positively such as punching bags or running or anything, just anything, please anything else that isn't drugs or cigarettes or alcohol or violence or yelling or screaming or names or lies that make me cry and die on the inside. I try to be strong, not for me, but for my little sister to show her that all will be okay and that it's okay to cry and to hurt. But if someone tries to hurt you, you need to stand up for yourself, and you need to be strong when someone is trying to bury you even further than six foot under even if they're family, but what does that word even mean to me?

You need to try and reach for the sky before you die from all of the times that you've cried yourself to sleep because of that one person that tears you apart and is still tearing you apart and is still tearing me apart and has been tearing us apart ever since we were 5 and 9. We witness the yelling, the screaming, the punching, the fighting, the drinking, the drugs, and the horrible foul words.

You know it must be bad when someone at school asks you the next day if you're okay because their house is two streets away. They could hear the yelling and the screaming and the fighting. They heard the police sirens screaming, and everyone is yelling, and I just want to be leaving and go to a place where nobody will know who I am. I want to forget about all of my past because I don't want these nightmares to last. It all goes so fast and tears me apart, tears me apart, and I don't have the heart to tear this family apart even if how we treat isn't right. Our might revoked, and my sight lost, but I just see the night, or is that light?