A Few Screws Loose

Truths lie behind closed doors, while the world has no idea who you are.

A facade so sincere & genuinely adored.

Everyday I’d dread those moments of you coming home.

Quickly your anger & abuse starts spiraling like a cyclone.

Berating me, while you smirk—

my tears being the gasoline, fueling your soul.

Breaking me down, apologetic & pretending you feel bad to gain control.

Trauma bonded to a nightmare with a heart thats one dark black hole.

Your words work similar to a screw driver & with every twist & turn, my mental state erodes—

As I frantically try to collect my mind’s Philip head screws, fallen scattered on the floor.

I much rather knives in my back or sticks & stones breaking my bones.

I’ll always be a few screws loose, but I will fix myself a midst my woes.