This is my home.
The children watch the ceiling
As our mother drinks her life away.
I'm fine
I tell myself.
You can make it through the day.
Daddy died, my brother lied
He knew what happened,
But he won't tell the truth.
Broken
Small
But one day I'll smile at it
And hope to get passed it
YOU ARE READING
Typically Typical
PoetryIt was suffocating me. My thoughts, my head, everyone. About a girl who seems typical on the outside but a mess on the inside....
