Diary of An Adolescent

PAGE 7.

Dear Mother,
  I'm trying to figure out the memories your stories put in bold. What had happen to that happy child, who called us children. Those were the good days I can recall, but it only lasted a second in tell you went back into the locked restroom door. We would all lean against that door, as we heard your tears dripping down your palms. Sister would torture herself into thinking what she did wrong, brother would just sit there trying to rip down that wall, and older sister skipped sleeping at night so she could make sure we didn't try to run off. The car rides always filled with crying and arguments, it felt like suffocating. I couldn't blame the way life treated you because it had caught up to us, there was no one to turn as we would always just hit the other cars. There was a gap that left me thinking how much do I have to trade for the honey to be sweet, and all those nightmares would leave us having sweet dreams. Was it because of us, that creature we all called dad, or the paper that always ran out of stock. I wanna make the rainbows more vibrant so that it can lead us to the jack pot. Maybe then mother would you leave that door unlocked, and sit by us in front of the tv laughing as if we hadn't. To finally have big sister sleep and the children believing in fairytales again.
                                                   Sincerely,
                                                   Your child