I stand here.
Trying to figure out what I’ve done wrong to deserve this hell you keep thrusting on my shoulders.

Your youngest daughter, do I matter?
The Golden One is just so…pleasant.
That helps you blur the edges.

But not enough.

So, You go on, drowning your sorrows
As you down another glass.
I say nothing, watching you finish the bottle.
Is that enough yet?
No, go get another one.
Pour your poison down your throat

When that is finished,
Your edges are blurred, and you’re blinded to the outside.
You get solace in your make-believe world.

But here I am,
I’m on the outside.
I have no way to escape, like you do.

So I watch.
You make a fool of yourself time and time again.

Is no pitch too loud for you?
Can you not see the stares?

I envy your escape.
The one I could easily take, too.
I’m in high school…it isn’t hard to fill your mind with smoky haze to block out what you don’t want to see.

Later, after you’ve passed out snoring,
And he’s watching TV.
I come here,
Wishing it were anywhere else.

I take my own escape.
One by one,
My escapes flow freely out of my eyes.

You will never see my escape.
I will not flaunt it like you.

But I can only act so much.
Certain people see through my play.
They drag me into intermission.
Are you okay?
Of course I am…why wouldn’t I be?

The lies flow more easily now.
I don’t tear up at the sight of a happy couple.
I can show a smile to unsuspecting society.
I can even lie to myself.

Until I get home.
Then, a rush of loneliness
Charges at me as I walk through the door.
Loneliness doesn’t belong in a home,
So I guess it is just a house.
A shell of a once happy family.

I will never forgive you.
For being the lightning
that ripped us into shreds.

I seek solace in the places I can.
My cave, they used to call my room.
How appropriate.
To me it is a haven.
I can just be …me.

If that isn’t enough,
I lose myself in a book that will become a movie in my head.
I can only hope I don’t get lost there.

For I live in a madhouse.
Does the Golden One know?
How should I know?
I can’t very well ask her.

No, being at my house won’t work.
I escape;
to the trail, to the park, to the library,
to Starbucks.

Whenever I see my friends,
I am filled with that unfamiliar emotion.
Happy.
I laugh as much as I can.
Even when it sounds fake to my own ears,
it is better than the incessant hurt that pierces my heart
whenever I see them pretending nothing is wrong.

Sometimes I want to end my pain.
Maybe run away.
or move to Georgia.
or farther away…maybe Arizona.
or take it all away.

As J once put it,
“I’m a goddamn basket-case.”
I know what she means now,
because I am one too.
How can I make this right?

Only two more years until I can escape with justification.
Who knows if I will come back.
They won’t miss my visits,
And I won’t miss them.

A Horrible Predicament,
caused by the monster
--mother.
The one only revealed to my eyes.