How Should I Feel?

The drums sound off their continuous beating heart, 

the anger buzzes in the void between us. 

The glass tears fall down my stone face,

shattering in the space between our feet. 

I stare into the eyes that have lifted me up

and tore me down, 

lead me to the sunshine

just to see it be covered in clouds.

Your hands are the ones that lead me to the hole

where I crawled in

and got buried alive.

The stars scream in the air,

black ink covering my fingers.

I write my story on my heart, 

streaks and imperfections naked for you to see.

My broken teeth and severed tounge 

make it hard for me to speak how I feel.

Memories ooze from their dusty corner into my vision,

visions of laughter and long talks, 

of car rides and inside jokes.

I look down at the angry scars,

remembering nights of crying alone,

of words slicing and dicing my confidence,

days where you loved everyone

and barely gave me a glance. 

I take the first step back, 

taking myself away from this poison.

Are you sad to see me like this,

or glad to see me go?

This poem is about: 
My family


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