faye char | d11 | cb | FIN

Family is defined by those that have it.

Unconventional and nonconforming, different for each person. Two parents too sick to care, poisoned by glass bottles filled with impure sorrows which drown all light from within. One family fractured by society's downfalls, five children sprouting from the root of all our problems.

Five, four, three, one.

("He wouldn't have made it anyway")—words lingering and beating my mind blue. Perhaps he could have been the solution to the undying equation, the translator for the hieroglyphs facing us. A saviour to part the sea of misfortune and guide us to a place along the blue and above the hills.

We'd still find a way to ruin it, destroying the world from the inside out. A tendency to be negative, footsteps like shadows behind us tell stories of never good and only bad. Bones broken, hair untidy and cracked skin, sunken eyes like dark tunnels
—I once promised to be the light.

To aid them in flight unfledged.

But all this civil war that burns through my bloodstream is boiling over, each day brings a new type of intensity that has no scale or degree of accuracy, only pain and pain continued through the fall of my childhood security.

1, 2, 3—drink.

Ripped jeans and holes in jumpers to protect my thumbs; it's the tiny things that remind me I'm home.

My head and heart lie bloody, but unbowed.