FicWad

i'm a stranger to this place
i should call home

laughs used to fill the halls
playing among sisters happened once or twice

now its usually just
the booming laugh coming from my father in the other room
clicks from my mother's keyboards

then there's the silence in the middle of the day
that's only disturbed by the heating turning on

school halls that hold better memories
than every floorboard of my own house

the nights that we go out to eat
filled with beer
and jokes at my mom's cooking

the extra food my mom makes
that goes cold on the counter
now its just a leftover for tomorrow
and not my sister's dinner anymore

broken memories of car trips
with mostly questions like
"do you want me and your dad to divorce?"
fighting over the radio

it just sucks

i wouldn't know what it's like
to have the cool older sister
who hangs out with their younger sister

after 16 years
is home ever going to start to feel like a home?

why is that since eighth grade the nights
get worse and worse

the couch seems to pull me in each day
there's those comments again
the ones that aren't suppose to hurt
meaningless jokes

"wow you're so lazy"
"pathetic, useless kid"
"maybe you should start losing some weight"

the house feels cold
and sometimes days just blend together
weeks and months go by since i've even seen my best friends
some days i can't even find the motivation
to do the things i enjoy
i'm left with nothing but the reality TV

but it alright
it doesn't matter
because it can be turned into another joke

the only way to let it all out is the
3 a.m. breakdowns
and the margins of my math notes

paper doesn't have ears
but neither do trees
the paper holds the words
and the leafs remember the words

floorboards creek in the same place everyday
and the flowers still stay in the middle of the table
plastic and alive
along with wilting flowers out in the garden

nothing seems to fix that empty feeling

but the days will blend in a new week,
a new month, a new year
and the day when my childhood ends
i'm left with college looming over head

this house will always be here
but it'll be filled with nothing but strangers