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I wake every morning
To burnt toast and cold porridge.
My parents are too busy arguing notice (or care about) me not eating.
I change for school every morning
Arranging my hair
So it hides the bruises over my temple.
I walk to school every morning
Either we haven’t got money for gas
Or mums sweeping up broken plates instead.
I smile every morning
As I see my friends debating
Whether I'm lying or not, as I say ‘I'm fine.’
I play every lunch time
Gratefully accepting food when the others see I have none.
I walk home every after noon
Dreading the moment I open the door (you know it’s bad
When you can't wait to get back to school, and away from your family).
I eat dinner every night
A few stale uncooked tacos, sitting on my bed
Wondering what mum’s done now to make dad over turn the dinner table.
I creep down the hall every night
Just to check no-one is lying unconscious (or dead) when the shouting stops
And the silence takes over.
My dad grabs me every night
He smells of sweat and alcohol
Hatred and failure.
I fall victim to his fist every night
And am broken and bloodied
Watching mum watching me, a smirk on her lips and a cigarette in her hands.
I lie in bed every night
Listening to dad and his poker buddies ask where one of their number has gone
And hear him in the next room with my mother.

[ending 1]
I cry myself to sleep every night, knowing
I will unfortunately wake tomorrow morning
To burnt toast and cold porridge.

[ending 2]
But tonight I my routine of depression ends.
Tonight I twist my bed-sheets, hanging them from the tree branch outside
Ten feet from the ground.
As I slip them around my neck (they feel soft and warm. Comforting.)
And perch on the edge of my window.
Falling, falling, and eventually, sleeping.
Forever. Finally.

[ending 3]
But tomorrow I will change my daily routine of depression.
Tonight I pack my bags. My parents are passed out;
They don’t hear the creak of my window, my footsteps as I land in the garden outside
I run to my safe harbour, my friends,
And know that for the first time in my life
I will not wake up to burnt toast and cold porridge.
Not anymore.
more mibba poems....
i am cinty_insanity on there =P lolz check it out
AshRandom Featured By Owner Jun 8, 2010
arg... ending it with a razz killed it...

I seriously need to stop reading the damn comments boxes... one smiley face changed my mood so drastically it hurt....
cinty-insanity Featured By Owner Jun 8, 2010
Haha, right sorry :X
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Submitted on
August 26, 2009
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