you're fifteen, the air at your home is tense, thick with wrath and uneasiness. you sink deeper into the couch, buried into your books, it was always easier to not acknowledge ambiences. you would numb your mind or rather it would numb itself, because as they say, you get used to it, or perhaps, you kill a part of the mind accepting it. you hear your parents arguing, it's about you. you shut your book and rush to the washroom, it's always been safer there. you lean against the wall, feeling the cold, and sinking into your own sadness, the sadness that stuck with you ever since you grew up.
YOU ARE READING
the blue and the solace
Poetrya poetry, thoughts and an excerpts collection. - #8 in poetry - #2 in poem
