It's hard to sleep in a house where so many nightmares happened
I can still hear the screaming
The crying
The pleading
I can still feel the fists
The metal
The burns
I can still smell the cigarettes
The alcohol
The weed
I can't so much as close my eyes without being torn apart.
This happens. Night after night.
I need to escape this living nightmare.
This is no home.
This is hell.
YOU ARE READING
My collection of poetry and short stories
Poetry-poems -short stories -trigger warning
