OUR HOUSE IS A BATTLEFIELD!

My home is a battlefield
where silence on the dinner table is a war cry
Its funny because we make sure to hang the best portraits where everyone is happy
yet happiness feels like the voice of a bird singing in a distant land
which visits the neighbor’s house sometimes but never happens to travel to our front yard
Our house is a battlefield
where I wake up in the middle of the night to loud screams or broken crockery pots on the walls of a broken house
and I realize that war isn’t always soldiers marching in a battlefield
sometimes, its the silent screams and sobbing behind washroom floors with open tapes, hoping and wishing for a miracle
one that joins two hearts together that only know of hating each other
Our house is a battlefield
where I am the one who always loses, no matter whose side I am
and so the losses pile up, and the blood of it seeps through the soil of my barren body and a tree of trauma grows there
so I cut the tree and used the wood to bleed words on paper
and write stories where I can be whoever I want to be
but mostly, I like to be headstrong and outspoken, one who defies social norms, who rejects the cultural bulshit spoonfed to us as children
and those stories give me peace
they help me heal
in those stories, I find home
But our house is a battlefield
where they fight with bullets that dont kill
but bullets that seep through you and rot within
eventually killing the laughter, the life and happiness within you
leaving an empty skeleton that is devoid of love but full of emptiness
So our house is a battlefield
where when two enemies make love, they give birth to a child of dissent
who dosnt knows of how to fight
but only longs to be fought for!!