i do not know if i will make it out of this house alive.
the walls are thin, but the weight of the voices inside them
crushes me like i am nothing.
yelling, anger, crying, arguing—
it never stops, never fades, never lets me breathe.
i stay in my room, door locked, body still,
too scared to move, too scared to be seen,
because the moment i step outside,
there will be another reason to break me.
a dish left in the sink.
a light left on.
a breath taken wrong.
it does not matter. it is always something.
i am exhausted.
not just the kind that sleep can fix,
but the kind that lives in my bones,
the kind that drags behind me like a shadow
that no light can erase.
this house is not a home.
it is a cage made of voices
that never say anything kind.
a place where silence is the only safety,
where walls press in, closer and closer,
until i do not know if i will make it out alive.
YOU ARE READING
poems
Поэзияpoems i've written. i recommend reading from the bottom of the parts and working up to the first one. i promise they get better and more lengthy. the first few poems are rhyme schemes, the rest are free verse peoms. please don't take without credits...
