My writing hides in the pieces of shattered glass,

lying on the kitchen floor.

My father shouting painful lies,

smell of liquor on his breath.

My writing hides beneath the creaking floor boards,

placed right outside my dreaded room.

Stopping me from escaping,

from the pain that lies within.

My writing hides within my tears,

streaming down each night.

Caused by those who meant the most,

and the truth to why they left. 

My writing hides inside my dreams,

the only time I can forget.

Just hoping I won't wake up,

to the nightmare I had left.

My writing hides inside my dreams,

the only time I can forget.

Just hoping I won't wake up,

to the nightmare I had left.

My writing hides within itself,

afraid to share the truth.

Knowing what could happen,

if ever shared with you.