Home...Home...she hated that word.
Family...she loathed the sound of it.
The morning screams were her awakening.
The stench of alcohol was her scent.
The weary eyes were her's to carry.
School was shit.
Home was wreck.
Life was just another cunt.
The alcohol took the best of him.
The drugs took the best of her.
And the sorrow took the best of them.
He drank to get away.
She sniffed to get away.
And they lived to get away.
But if everyone was trying to get away.. What else was there to live for? What reason would they have to live?
A nightmare of a father.. Too helpless of a mother.. Terrified to nothing were her siblings. So really what else was there to live for? What else could she live for?
The bottles breaks...bashes everyday. It would have been better if it was on the wall and not on her body.
It would have been better if the tiny children didn't have to see the sight.
It would have been better if their eyes weren't filled with terror.
It would have been better if they never knew they had to live with a broken family.
It would have been better if they had hope...but no they didn't..not even a bit of hope was left.
Every time the bottle bashed.
The hope faded.
Until there was no single bits to break...
It was all gone...
Their hope...
Their happiness..
Everything all gone..
They finally realized the truth...the truth she tried so best to shield them from.
Everyday they saw a new bruise..
Everyday they heard the old cry...
They could see it...
They knew it...
That hell was their home...