I need to write
Day and night
To get it off my mind
But soon I find
I can’t even bother.

It doesn’t feel worth it.
My family is perfect likes those silly little house kits.
The flaw is in the floor plan.
It’s more flawed than man.
The only member who sees is my brother.

My dad is willing to believe the worst of me.
Some days I wonder if I’ll ever be free.
If I was truly as rotten cored as they think
Why would I care if I was on the brink?
I almost wish I was as blind as my mother.

I’m too paranoid to write my deepest thoughts in my journal
Including my absence from the funeral
I don’t understand the living nightmare.
Most days I wish I didn’t care.
The pain I feel now compares to no other.