I hate it when a family gets together
talking in voices that sound like knives
being sharpened.
The metal grinding into another
Scratching scratching scratching, Noises
so sharp.
It seeps into your teeth, making your
jaw ache
resonating through your ear drums,
leaving pain in its wake.
You can never leave the
sound, it haunts you
And some wear jackets and long t-shits
for the cold
But they don’t know that it’s only
Arizona
the weather is so hot that it feels like
an inferno.
The heat wraps you up like your mom did
when you were a child
But only to smother you slowly till you
can’t recognize your tears from your sweat.
They are always the ones that judge you
before your able to plead your case
Questioning your life decisions before
it has begun
Wanting to become the puppet masters to
your life
Letting you drown in your frailer, never
letting you resurface.
The family seemed normal on the outside
but they were different
The judgment, the hopefulness, the fear
of leaving their small town
Always asking so much from others but
never themselves
Pushing God bearing ideals on the youth
Feeding the word but never practicing
Feeling of uneasiness were never lost
when they got together
You couldn’t escape like you couldn’t
escape your heart beating
Always had to stay in the background,
never speak
it wasn’t your place, even as a grown adult
No opinions to be heard except their own
Entertaining the children was your
sentence, nothing more
You were not a part of the family, just
a babysitter
Never caring just doing, hoping when it
would finally end
When will they realize that you never
waned to be a part of it.
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