#alienmess

The air in there is thick and stale With the still-lingering residue From past arguments Hanging in the air Like mold on the walls Reminding us we aren't as happy a family As we sometimes wish we were, And sometimes I swear the bags under my eyes Are more red than black From all the time I spent Wiping tears as quick as I could So no one would see them fall. If you listen closely When the floorboards creak You can hear the echos of screams We threw at each other like knives Aimed straight at the heart, And if you're lucky the trees That guard our prison cell of a house Will whisper stories of when We kicked at their trunks and hung our heads To hide the weeping. The walls have memorized every insult we've spit out Following the family recipe Of hurtful words mixed with a pinch of fire, And I can see the windows shaking with fear While we threaten to break them And use the glass to cut each other open In search for the peace We simply can not find. Now I must bite my tongue And not speak unless spoken to On the off chance I'll spill our tales Of a family that fights.