In the House

I fall asleep and wake up in your house
In that sleepy confusion, I’m a child again
Was I ever really a child in your house?
Running and hiding like I knew what I was doing.
(I didn’t. Not really)
Afraid to venture too far because I knew they’d bring me back to you
You’d punish me for humiliating you
Not for running away in the first place
(God forbid anyone really know what kind of a person you are)

You were something I had to survive
Sometimes I didn’t think I would
When I sat on the bathroom floor, knife in my hand
Glittering strands of garnets draped over my pale skin
(Your birth stone. It figures)

Those physical scars faded. I was surprised.
At times I’ve felt disappointed that no one can see my battle wounds
People always seem take those much more seriously
If I’d lost an arm or a leg or even a finger then maybe they’d understand
(Losing your mind isn’t nearly as impressive)

I still hear your voice sometimes
The worst is when I hear it in my own
You’re always hiding in there, pulling me back,
And then I’m in your house again
Hoping I’ll survive just one more day, one more hour,
One more minute
My life is made up of seconds
(Each inhale a victory)

Sometimes I think I’ll never really leave your house
I left, but my nightmares still take me back they way I always expected everyone else would
I want to claw you out of my flesh, rip you from my DNA
But you live here, in the house of my body
Traces of genetic mold in my wiring
Renovation is hard when the foundation refuses to heal
So I spackle and repaint as best I can
(Stay out of the basement)


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