If a stupid poem could fix this home, I'd read it everyday.

I'm tired. I'm tired of trying when you both evidently don't.

I'm only 18, I'm old enough to understand your bullshit but I'm not old enough to take it, what more for the younger ones. I spent half my childhood stuffing my head into soaked pillows on a nightly basis, writing about broken families in essays, and using my birthday wishes to redeem us a be-happy-together-forever-and-ever ticket.

They're young. I don't want them to have a taste of this. I don't want them to escape out of the house so often just because they need to. I don't want them to fear exiting the room, having to face World War III. I don't want them to struggle to put on a strong front when deep down inside, it cuts like a knife.

I'm tired.